


How It Should Have Been (And Maybe How It Was)

by rebelmeg



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A little bit of Steve POV, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And the fallout afterward is a big part of this, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But he was going to, But the others are important too and I had to tell their parts in the story, But they are important events in this fic, Canonical Character Death, Extremely emotional stuff going on right here, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He doesn't actually attempt, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard doesn't try very hard, I don't go into their deaths, Jarvis and Ana love Tony so much, Maria tries so hard, POV Edwin Jarvis, POV Howard Stark, POV Multiple, POV Peggy Carter, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter's death, Peggy is Tony's godmother, Peggy would do anything for her Tony, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, That would be Howard and Maria, Then Peggy, They aren't "on screen" so to speak, This is mostly a Tony and Peggy fic, This is the best headcanon, This story is about Tony, Tiny Tony is the cutest thing ever, Tiny little Peter Parker cameo, Tony Feels, Tony Growing Up, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is Peggy's godson, Tony-centric, Young Tony Stark, but mostly told by the people in his life, including all the MCU movies that he is in, kind of, off-screen character deaths, this fic traverses Tony's entire life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: Tony Stark was surrounded by love his whole life.  His mother adored every bit of him from the moment she knew she was pregnant.  Peggy was the most devoted godmother that ever lived.  Edwin and Ana Jarvis treasured him as the closest thing they would ever have to their own child.But even with all that love... Tony still struggled, because the man that should have understood him best barely gave him a glance.This is how the relationships in Tony's life shaped him, and how he shaped them.





	1. He Is Precious

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, this fic. THIS FIC. The feels. OMG. 
> 
> I had so much inspiration for this, so we're gonna list that right now.
> 
> [Godmother Peggy AU's by mamalaz on Tumblr.](http://mamalaz.tumblr.com/tagged/godmother-peggy)
> 
> Broke my heart, every single one of those. Make sure you scroll down to see them all, because most of them are showing up in this fic.
> 
> This headcanon, Peggy being Tony's godmother, is so important to me. There is no way Peggy wasn't there in Tony's life, and this is how I imagine it happening. It is so easy to imagine her there, always, holding him together when he's ready to fall apart, with the help of Jarvis. And we know Tony loved his mom, so I went into that relationship too, even though we know so little about Maria.

**Chapter One**   
_He Is Precious_

_April 1970_

The first time Edwin Jarvis saw the newborn son of his employer, he felt a surprising swell of tenderness. He knew how desperately the baby had been hoped for, longed for, prayed for, and to see the happiness that radiated out of Maria Stark’s eyes as she walked to the door of the Stark mansion with her precious son in her arms, brought Jarvis joy.

The tiny boy was wailing inconsolably when Jarvis held the door open wide to welcome the family inside, but the moment the baby crossed the threshold, his cries fell silent and his eyes, large and dark blue and wise in only a way a newborn’s can be, opened on his world.

“Jarvis, _look_ at him!” Maria gushed, happy tears in her eyes. “Isn’t he the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

Jarvis smiled at her, leaning down to get a better look at the baby as Howard walked in behind Maria, holding her luggage and watching her with a silly little smile on his face. 

“He is indeed. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, young sir.”

“Where’s Ana, she has to see him!”

He smiled at Maria’s enthusiasm. “She’s just checking your room, madam, making sure all is in order. We took the liberty of giving it a thorough cleaning, in anticipation of the little master here.”

“Well, Anthony Edward Stark, shall we?” Maria’s eyes peeked up through her lashes, watching for Jarvis’ reaction to hearing the baby’s full name.

She was not disappointed.

Jarvis had startled at the middle name, and he blurted out, “Edward?” before he could stop himself.

“That’s right,” Maria confirmed in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning at the Englishman warmly. “We named him after you. But I know how you’d feel if we used your name exactly, so I changed it up just a little bit. But make no mistake, Edwin Jarvis, he is named for you.”

Jarvis could count on one hand the times he had cried since he was twelve years old, but that very nearly pushed it over to needing two hands.

It wasn’t very long at all before Maria was tucked into bed, little Tony cradled in her arms, with Ana Jarvis standing at the side of the bed, cooing in delight at the baby’s long eyelashes, his button nose, his tiny fingers, his little mouth.

Jarvis ached, for a moment, wishing more than anything that he could have given that to his beloved wife. Ana would have been such a wonderful mother.

_Well_ , he supposed, _this would have to do._

\--------------------------

The first time Peggy Carter saw the newborn Anthony Edward Stark, her first thought was, _“He looks just like Maria.”_

And he did. With dark blue eyes and wisps of barely visible blond hair, little Tony took after his mother, with her blue-green eyes and light blonde hair. They made a beautiful picture, cuddled together in the bed, Maria smiling down at the little one and stroking one fingertip gently over his cheek.

“Oh, Maria, he’s perfect.” Peggy sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to look at him, smiling with delight.

“He is,” The enamored mother breathed, “Ten fingers and ten toes and the sweetest little face. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off him.”

“And I can see why. Oh, he’s just darling.”

“Here, you must hold him. He’ll steal your heart with one glance, I guarantee you.”

Peggy carefully took the baby and cradled him in her arms, having had plenty of practice from her own two wonderful, nearly grown children. “Hello, little one.”

Tony had huffed and snuffled as he’d been shifted around, seeming as if he’d let out a cry of indignation at any moment for being disturbed, but then he sighed and cast one last solemn look up at Peggy before his eyelids closed and he fell asleep.

“He knows how safe he is with his Aunt Peggy,” Maria smiled at her.

“Of course he is.” Peggy pressed a feather-light kiss to the baby’s head, the downy wisps of hair tickling her lips. “Don’t you fret, my darling, I’ll always keep you safe.”

Letting the baby go so that he could eat an hour later was monstrously difficult, and Peggy knew she was destined to ache for her next turn with him for the rest of her life. She’d never get enough of that precious baby boy, just the same as she’d never had enough of her own children when they were babies.

She left the room to give Maria privacy, and found Howard lurking just outside, sneaking a peek at Maria and Tony as Peggy came out.

“You know, I’m fairly certain you can go in anytime you like. It is your room.” Peggy teased.

“Nah, I didn’t want to interrupt girl time. And I’ll get far too distracted by that kid if I’m not careful.”

“You’re supposed to, Howard. He’s your son and he is… he’s an absolute doll. It took you long enough.”

Howard smiled, and there was pride in it. Fathering a child at fifty-two years of age was obviously something he was going to be unbearably cocky about. “Come have a drink with me. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Peggy sighed dramatically as she fell into step beside him. “The last time you propositioned me, I ended up co-founding an intelligence agency. I’m not so sure I can handle another proposition.”

“Hey, that whole thing was your idea. But don’t worry, you’ll like this one, I promise.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like the last one. Even though it keeps me heinously busy when I obviously need to clear my schedule to spend time with my adopted nephew.”

Howard grinned in a cat-in-the-cream sort of way, but he refused to explain himself until they were sitting in the huge wingback chairs in his ridiculous office downstairs, tumblers of scotch and soda in their hands.

“Alright, proposition me. And keep it clean, please. No fondue.”

Howard chuckled at the running joke, but it was weak. Clearly, still a Steve-sized sore spot there. Peggy had one too, but twenty-five years and a life of her own had shrunk that spot down to something manageable.

“So, Tony’s gonna need godparents.”

“Ana and Jarvis. Of course.”

Howard slid her a glance that tried to be annoyed, but he really couldn’t manage it. “Half right.”

“What? What do you mean half right? You can’t make one of them a godparent and not the other one.”

“Actually, I can, but don’t worry, Ana won’t feel cheated. Maria and I both agreed that if anything should happen to us, Ana will take care of him. Jarvis too, I’m sure, but Ana will have full custody.”

Peggy smiled, knowing how much that would mean to the woman. “That’s very wise of you, Howard. And very kind too, might I add?”

He smirked a little and raised his glass. “Don’t tell anybody. My image.”

“Of course not. So Jarvis will be his godfather, and—”

“And you’ll be his godmother.”

Peggy sat up. “What? Me?” She couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on her face.

“Of course you. There’s no one else I’d rather have. Maria too.”

“Howard, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Got you speechless for once in your life? Excellent.” He sipped his drink and winked at her. “The word you’re searching for is yes, by the way. Come on, Peg,” Howard urged, “Be my kid’s godmother.”

Peggy smiled in spite of herself and gave in. “Well, someone has to be a good influence.”

Something sad and perhaps bitter flickered in Howard’s eyes, but he just saluted Peggy with his glass and drained it. “No one better for that job than you.”

“I’ll do my very best.”

“Peggy, I don’t think you’ve done anything less than your very best at anything, ever, in your entire life.”

She smiled, shaking her head a little, and looked over at Howard. “Are you excited?”

He was pouring another glass of scotch. “About what?”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Howard.”

“Being a father?”

“Of course.”

Howard… shrugged. “Course I am.”

Now she narrowed her eyes. “Howard.”

He sighed and finally actually met her gaze. “It’s… just not really my thing, Peg. You know me.”

“I do. And I think that little boy could be the best thing to ever happen to you, aside from Maria.”

Howard’s eyes softened at the mention of his wife. It had been completely obvious, right from the start, how much Maria had been different for him. They’d been married for nearly fifteen years now, and he was still as devoted to her as he’d been when they’d first met. No longer the womanizing playboy, Howard had been made into a new man that loved his wife with all his heart. Now if only he could show the same adoration for his son that he did for Maria.

“You know me, Peggy. I don’t change easy.”

“No one does, Howard. No one ever does. We just find the things that are worth changing for.”

 

_April 1973_

“I have never been more exhausted in my life,” Peggy groaned as she fell flat on her face into the cushions of the couch in the Stark’s upstairs parlor three years later.

Jarvis smirked as he brought a tea tray into the room. “And you helped topple a world power.”

Smiling to herself, Peggy rolled her torso just enough to be able to see the tall, proper butler. “Very few villains have ever seemed as determined as that boy when facing the prospect of bedtime. I have never witnessed such skilled tactics at delay, negotiation, and manipulation.”

Jarvis smiled as he held a teacup out. “He is ruthless, especially for a child whose vocabulary consisted of incomprehensible garble only a year ago.”

The toddler-sized Tony Stark had only just turned three the previous week, and he was fast proving that age was no guarantee of helplessness. His eyes, blue in infancy, were now a warm, sparkling brown that missed nothing, under an utterly adorable mop of golden curls. His father’s eyes and his mother’s hair, the perfect blend of his parents. And he had an intrinsic knowledge that told him precisely how to bat those ridiculous eyelashes to get what he wanted. Peggy was particularly susceptible to his charms, especially as she didn’t get to see him nearly as much as she liked with all the work she did at SHIELD. 

“You’ll like this, yesterday he told me that if I would give him two cookies for his snack instead of one, he would make me a robot.”

Peggy laughed, nearly spilling tea all down the front of herself. “A robot? What did you say?”

“I told him that I would give him the extra cookie as soon as he gave me the robot. He stuck out his lip in a pout so far that he nearly fell over from the weight of it.”

“Oh, my goodness. I love him.” Peggy shook her head, overwhelmed with fondness.

Jarvis was still smiling as he took a seat and sipped at his own tea. “I do as well. The immeasurable cheek. He is startlingly like you.”

Peggy slid a half-attempted glare at the butler, which wasn’t very fearsome, because she couldn’t quite get the grin off her face. It was no secret that Peggy Carter was absolutely, 100% enamored of her godson. Her own children were only just barely at the age where she could start expecting grandchildren, and she was getting more than enough practice with Tony. She doted on the little boy as often as possible, which was happily becoming more and more often as she got older and missions for SHIELD were farmed out to younger agents. Settling into more of an office job was something she didn’t mind now, since she was the boss signing the already-polished field reports now, and it gave her more time with the people she loved.

And besides, she could still go on field missions anytime she wanted. Again… she was the boss. She could do whatever she wanted.

 

_1974_

Howard collapsed onto the bed next to his wife, still fully clothed, and sighed a deep sigh. The Expo was going to grind him into the ground, if making the movies for it didn’t kill him first.

“You sound terribly chipper.” Maria commented, sliding him a smile.

He snorted and rolled over, slinging an arm over Maria’s lap. “My wonderful, enormous brain won’t shut up, I’m starting to develop a true hatred for cameras, and I was obviously born in the wrong century because I have an _incredible_ idea but I can’t do anything about it.”

“Is that the element you were babbling about last night when you were half asleep?”

“Yes.” He laid there for a moment, still cranking through one idea after another, trying to find a loophole, a crack somewhere that he missed. “Ugh! Maria!” He was whining, he would readily admit it, and he scooted over to bury his head in her lap, nudging her book over.

She sighed, part exasperation and part fondness, and scratched her perfectly manicured nails over his head, making her husband groan in appreciation. “You’ll figure it out, Howard, I know you will.”

He rolled his head over so he could speak. “It’s not that. I’ve got it figured out, I just don’t have the technology to _do_ it, and no one else does either. No one else even comes close to comprehending this.”

“Give him a few years, and Tony will.” The smile on Maria’s face was soft and fond, exactly what people meant when they said “a mother’s love”.

“Tony.” Howard couldn’t help but scoff at it. She had such a soft spot for the boy. “Tony’s so interested in playing with those stupid matchbox cars and tinkering with his toys that he can’t even look up and see what’s going on around him.”

Maria’s eyes flashed a little bit and she frowned. “I can’t even begin to explain how much that is the pot calling the kettle black.”

Howard rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, because she was right and he damn well knew it.

“He’s going to change the world, Howard. I know it. Peggy knows it. Ana and Jarvis know it.” She smirked as she looked down at him. “Maybe you’re so interested in your work that you can’t even look up and see what’s going on around you.”

Howard looked up at her with his lips pinched tight like they did when he was irritated. “Don’t.”

She just raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. “Stop giving me ammo, and I’ll stop using it, darling.”

Lord, he had to keep Peggy away from his wife. It wasn’t doing anyone any favors for them to rub off on each other.

\----------------------

Howard tipped two fingers of scotch right down his throat, not even noticing the burn as he threw his suit jacket over the desk. He needed something to take the edge off, to ease the frustration he was dealing with while he tried to get these stupid film clips done. He had a sudden and new respect for the people he’d bossed around all those years ago when he’d been directing his movies. Acting according to a specific script was much harder than it looked. On a stage, he could recover from a fumble and invent something to say right off the cuff, but memorizing and delivering written lines while trying to remember the blocking was… horrific.

He was pouring another glass when he heard Maria calling his name, and he gulped that down quickly before she came in the room because she sounded angry.

“What happened?” Maria demanded as she all but stormed into the room, and Howard could see the marks of tearstains on the shoulder of her silk shirt, the clothing ruined. Of course, Tony. Now she was out for Howard’s blood.

He sighed and reached for the decanter again, popping his top shirt button and loosening his tie with the other hand. “What? What’s he blubbering about now?”

The slap caught him hard and fast, right across his cheek. And it stung, but far more than that, it sat him back and got his attention. Had she really just…?

“Don’t you _dare_ , Howard Stark. Don’t you dare say a word against my son. He is _precious_. _He_ is the greatest creation you have ever made, and I swear, if you don’t start treating him that way…”

His face was throbbing now, and Howard looked at his wife wide-eyed with shock. “Maria, what has gotten into you?!”

Her face was flushed with anger as she glared at him, and for the first time in a long time, Howard caught a glimpse of the volcano that lived inside the woman he married. One of the reasons he had married her, that fire inside her that few people got to see. It was burning now, and coming for him.

“You tell him, Howard. You tell our little boy what he needs to hear, or so help me God, I will leave you. We both will.” She stalked out of the room, her back ramrod straight, her heels snapping against the floor.

Her words shocked him, got to him, more powerfully than anything else possibly could have. She was serious, and when his Maria was serious, she was an unstoppable force. She was like Peggy that way. 

Howard made no change outwardly, but on the inside… he was scrambling to remember what she had said, what she had meant, and what he would have to do to make sure he did it. He would do anything to keep Maria in his life, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And, he had to admit with some amount of shame as he finished pouring his third glass of scotch, she was right. He was… not a good father. He knew it. And he… he owed it to his son (he still had to remind himself what that _meant_ ) to say the words out loud that he so very rarely expressed.

He… loved that boy. He did. When he cared to look, he saw the exceptional mind that was hiding behind those eyes so much like his, the potential that lurked there, waiting to be let out.

Howard sighed, dragging a hand down his face, wincing at his sore cheek. His gaze roamed around the room, the furniture and the camera equipment, the Expo model that contained the key to the new element he’d discovered…

And then it came to him in a flash. He knew what to do. He suddenly understood… why he had been so determined and meticulous when it came to building that model. It had been one of those crazy manias that had gripped him in the wee hours of the morning, and he’d spent days working out the measurements and creating the model. He’d had no idea, at the time, why he was doing it, but something in him just couldn’t let his idea lie. He’d had to do something, something to manifest the brilliance of what he had worked out.

Now he understood why.

He was leaving it for someone else.

Going over to the desk, he pulled over a pad of paper and pen, and started scribbling down instructions for the camera operator, the clips of the model he would need to splice into the idea growing in his mind. He wouldn’t mess with lines, he didn’t need a script for this, he knew what he’d say. He didn’t want this, this gift to his son, to be rehearsed lines.

He wanted… he had to make it as genuine as possible. For Tony, for Maria, and for himself. He had to do it, he had to say the words, and as he did, he’d be able to show the way into the future he’d been envisioning.

 

_1975_

At five years old, little Tony Stark was the most adorable, precocious child that had ever lived. And certainly his godmother Peggy wasn’t biased, that was just silly. You couldn’t argue with fact. Her own children had been the most adorable children that had ever lived too, once upon a time. She was just lucky enough to have exceptional children in her life.

Tony’s darkening, sandy blond hair lay wild on his head in loose curls when it got too long, and his lovely, warm brown eyes always sparkled with mischief and laughter. He loved running, playing, building things, playing piano with his mother, watching Howard make things (he was not allowed to touch), and listening to his Aunt Peggy tell him stories.

“Tell me another Cap story?” He asked one night as Peggy tucked him into bed, just as she headed to turn off the light and leave the room. Maria and Howard were out for the night attending a party, and Peggy had gladly agreed to watch her godson, taking advantage of every moment she could have with him.

Peggy smiled at Tony from the doorway, his big brown eyes even bigger as he begged with them. “Of course my darling.” 

She crossed the room and settled next to him on the bed, groaning a little and tucking an arm around his little shoulders. “You ready?” At his nod, she began. 

“Once upon a time, there was a man named Steve Rogers.”

Tony sighed happily and snuggled into her side, tugging his blanket up to his chin so as to be perfectly comfortable as his Aunt Peggy launched into her story.

“And Steve Rogers was a soldier.”

Tony slung an arm over her waist and tipping his head up so he could watch her talk. “He was a soldier like you?” 

Oh, didn’t that warm every cockle of her heart every time he asked that question? “That’s right, my darling, just like I was.”

The little boy nodded in satisfaction.

“Steve wanted to be a soldier more than anything in the whole world. He wanted so much to help in the war, to stop the bad bullies from hurting all the good people that hadn’t done anything wrong. The problem was, Steve was very small.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, as they always did, “Like me?”

Peggy smiled down at him, “No, he was all grown up. But his body was small and weak, and he got sick a lot. He even got in lots of fights with bullies because he was so small.  
And sometimes he even got so sick he nearly died. But Steve was not going to let that stop him. He wanted to be a soldier. So he went and told the Army, ‘I want to be a soldier.’ And do you know what they told him?”

Tony shook his head, even though he could have recited this story by heart.

“They said, ‘Mr. Rogers, you can’t be a soldier, because you are too small and too sick.’ Now, that made Steve upset. Steve knew he was small and his body was weak and sick, but he wanted to be a soldier. His best friend, Bucky, was going to be a soldier, and Steve was going to be a soldier too. So Steve went to the Army again, and said, ‘I want to be a soldier.’ But do you know what they told him?”

“No?”

“They told him no, because he was too small and too sick. It made Steve angry, because he knew he could help. He went to the Army again and again, but every time they told him, ‘No, you are too small and too sick.’”

Tony was frowning, his face pinching at the injustice, and she just _had_ to lean down and press a kiss to his head before she continued.

“Then, something amazing happened. Steve went to the Army again, one more time, and said, ‘I want to be a soldier, I want to stop the bullies.’ And this time… Do you know what happened?”

“Someone said yes!” Tony could barely contain his excitement, a grin nearly splitting his face.

“Someone said yes.” Peggy affirmed. “It was a man named Dr. Erskine, and he said that if Steve wanted to be a soldier and stop the bullies _that much_ , then Dr. Erskine would let him try.”

“How did he be a soldier if he was so small and sick?”

“Well, at first, he had to try very, very hard just to do all the normal things all the other soldiers did. He couldn’t run as fast, because it was hard for him to breathe. He couldn’t do all the calisthenics the other soldiers did, because his muscles were small. Oh, but he tried. He tried so hard and was so brave that Dr. Erskine decided to help him.”

“What did he do, Aunt Peggy?”

“Dr. Erskine helped make him big and strong, so that Steve could be a soldier like he always wanted, so he could stop the bullies.”

“How did he do that?” Tony was absently stroking at the edge of his blanket as he looked up at her, plucking at the tied yarn ends and tracing the seam on the binding.

“Dr. Erskine gave Steve medicine to help his muscles, and your daddy made a big machine helped him grow.”

Tony’s eyes shone with pride. “Daddy made Steve grow big.”

“He and Dr. Erskine, yes. They made Steve’s body big and strong like his heart and his spirit, so he could be a good soldier and get rid of all the bullies.”

With a pump of his fist, Tony sat up. “He was Captain America!”

Peggy giggled and pulled Tony back to her with a hug as she finished her story. “Yes, he was. Steve Rogers the solider became Captain America.”

Tony went back to toying with his blanket, methodically tugging at one knot so that it worked itself loose. “Aunt Peggy?”

“Yes, darling?”

“When daddy looks for Roger sometimes…” Tony’s head was down so Peggy couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the way his little brain was working, “Is he looking for Steve?”

“Rogers, yes. Steve Rogers.”

“Daddy looks for Rogers sometimes.”

Peggy sighed, just a little. “Yes, he does.” In fact, Howard had been absent at Tony’s fifth birthday party, for precisely that reason. _Just one more time, Peg. Just one more. Maybe this time we’ll find him._

“Is Rogers… is Steve lost? Is Captain America lost?”

“Yes, darling. He is. He was fighting a big bully, and he got lost somewhere far away. And for a long time, your daddy and I and a lot of other people tried to find him.”

“Daddy talks about him all the time. He’s still looking.”

There was an ache in Tony’s voice, maybe the slightest hint of jealousy, and it broke Peggy’s heart. “I know. He still hopes that he’ll find Steve.”

Tony was silent for a moment, mulling that over while she held him close. “Aunt Peggy?”

“Mm?”

“Did Steve die? Is that why you don’t look for him anymore?”

An ache in her throat and a sting behind her eyes were the only things she allowed before she swallowed it all back. Thirty years, and sometimes it still hurt. “Yes, darling. Steve died. But he died saving a lot of people from getting hurt, and that’s why he’s a hero.”

Tony looked up again, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Did you love Steve, Aunt Peggy?”

Her lip wobbled, just a little bit, but she smiled against it and leaned down to kiss his head. She had been married for a long time now, had a husband of her own who she loved with all her heart, and two beautiful children creating their own lives. But one small corner of her heart was saved, would always be saved, empty and cold as the water Steve had vanished into. “Yes, darling, I did. I loved him very much.”

“Even when he was small?”

“Especially then. Because his heart was strong, and he was so brave, and so kind.”

Tony nodded, snuggling a little lower in bed and resting his head on her hip. “Will Daddy make me big and strong someday, like Steve?”

“Oh, he won’t need to. You aren’t sick like Steve was, you’re going to grow up big and strong without any help.”

“And I’m going to be a hero, too!” Tony’s voice was full of all the conviction a five year old could muster, even as his eyelids drooped with sleep.

“Yes, you are, my darling. You are going to be a wonderful hero.”

 

_September 1976_

Tony Stark was only six years old the first time he was sent off to boarding school. And he cried, hurting and heartbroken sobs, all the way there. His mother had cried when she had hugged him hard and kissed him goodbye, and it made him so scared, he just wanted to go home.

Jarvis sat in the drivers’ seat, watching the tears fall, only until they were out of sight of the mansion. Then he pulled over, relocated the child to the front seat next to him, and continued on with Tony sobbing inconsolably into his waistcoat, one hand stroking softly over the boy’s uncharacteristically short hair.

It broke Jarvis’ heart, and even more than that, it made him angry. Angry at Howard Stark for insisting on this course of action, for making it necessary every time he got lost so far in the fog of alcohol that even Maria had agreed to send Tony away. For ever letting this precious child feel so very unwanted and unloved. Maria could only do so much in the face of Howard’s apparent disdain for his son, the incredible love of a mother only reaching so far.

“Don’t fret, young sir,” Jarvis murmured, rubbing Tony’s back. “It will be Christmas break before you know it, and then you’ll be home and it will be like nothing changed.”

“It’s eighty-seven days,” Tony whimpered, his voice wobbling. “Eighty-seven days, Jarvis. I’ve never even been away from home before.”

Jarvis’ throat ached and his eyes burned, hearing every nuance of fear, loneliness, and hurt in the little boy’s voice. “I know. But you know that we are all just a phone call away. And you’re going to have a marvelous time, young sir, think of all the things you’ll be able to learn!”

“I don’t want to learn. I just want to go home.” A fresh wave of sobs shook Tony’s body, and Jarvis made no further attempts to cheer him up. There really wasn’t anything you could say to mend a broken heart.

\--------------------

“Boarding school.” Peggy spat the words out like they were poisoned. “How could you let him do that, Maria?”

Maria’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she clutched a soaked handkerchief in her fingers. “Howard thought it would be best. He arranged for the best tutors, the best teachers, he’s going to be getting lessons from university professors as soon as next year, you’ve seen the way he builds things. He’s going to get the best education possible, he’s going to get the education he deserves.”

“Maria, he’s six years old! I can’t even bear to think about it, he must have been absolutely terrified.”

Maria clenched her arms around the middle and rocked back and forth slightly, looking utterly lost. “He was crying when Jarvis drove him away.”

The very thought nearly brought Peggy to tears. “Was it Howard’s drinking? Is that why you let him do this?”

More tears were streaming down Maria’s face, and she nodded, sobbing anew when Peggy sighed in defeat and wrapped her arms around her friend.

\-----------------

Tony screamed with joy when he came into the Headmaster’s office that Friday after lessons to see his Aunt Peggy standing there with his mother. All three of them cried together, sitting in a heap on the floor as Tony tried to hug both of them at once with his small arms, and both women tried to hold him as close as possible.

Every weekend that year, without fail, one or both of them were there, often with Ana or Jarvis as well, making the weekly five-hour trip without fail. Little Tony Stark, with his bright inquisitive eyes and a mind that seemed to move at superhuman speed, lived for the weekends when he got to hold home in his arms. And he cried in his room every Sunday evening when they left. He was learning so much, and learning so fast, but still… even the way they let him use tools and encouraged him to build things… he just wanted to go home.

 

_1980_

Tony Stark was only ten years old when he flicked a nervous glance at Edwin Jarvis’ face, then said in a trembling voice, “I don’t want to go home.”

The significance of the words cut through Jarvis like a spear, but he forced himself to smile gently and pull the boy in to his embrace. “Now, young sir, you don’t mean that. Your mother and father can’t wait to see you, they’ve been so excited to have you home again. And for the whole summer, this time!” He forced the joviality into his voice, but he knew it hadn’t fooled the boy.

“No, he’s not. He never wants to see me.”

And there was the crux of the problem.

Sinking to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeped through his fine trousers from the grass, Jarvis put his hands on Tony’s shoulders and looked up into that sad face, waiting until the wet eyelashes lifted enough for Tony to meet his eyes.

“Sir… Tony… I know it seems that way. And I know how much it hurts. But I promise you, your father does love you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

Another tear quivered just on the edge of the boy’s eyelashes, and it finally fell when Tony’s face and composure crumpled, and he threw himself into Jarvis’ embrace, quiet sobs bursting out of him. Jarvis held him, one hand softly stroking through light brown curls, rocking slightly.

Ana and Maria were back at the mansion, putting up Welcome Home banners and balloons in anticipation of Tony coming home. Maria in particular had been all of a dither for weeks now, anxious to have her boy back home.

Howard… Well, Jarvis wasn’t even sure the man remembered he had a son anymore.

“Come now,” Jarvis tugged Tony back up and smiled at him, determined not to let the boy remain so sad. “Ana was getting ready to make dough when I left, and I’ll bet you anything that there will be pretzels and Liptauer when we get back.”

A tiny smile quirked at Tony’s lips. “You think she’ll make paprikash too?”

“As if I could stop her, when she knows it’s your favorite.”

A finally real smile broke out on Tony’s face, and Jarvis let himself have a quick sigh of relief. The ride home was full of chatter, a lot of which Jarvis couldn’t even begin to understand (differential calculus didn’t often come up in his line of work), but Tony smiled and laughed and gesticulated enthusiastically as he told story after story. Maria and Ana were standing on the lawn when they got back, and Tony boiled out of the car and streaked towards them before the vehicle had even stopped.

Howard wandered up from his workshop sometime after midnight, long after Tony had finally conceded defeat and let Maria take him up to bed. He didn’t even see the banners hanging in the doorways and the balloons still floating in clusters by all the tables. He just went upstairs on autopilot, too tired and drunk to notice anything, and when Tony came into his parents’ room in the morning, a tentative smile on his face when he finally saw his father, Howard dashed the boy’s hopes with a sharp reprimand, telling him never to enter their room without knocking, and what were they even teaching him at that school?

Jarvis again soothed a crying Tony Stark, Ana at his side carding her gentle fingers through the boy’s hair, both of them trying and failing to give Tony hope and courage for the future when all three of them knew it was useless. No one could force Howard to care. And no one could make up for the pain it caused time and time again when all Tony wanted was for his father to want him.

 

_1982_

At twelve years old, young Tony Stark was the smartest person Peggy Carter knew. And she knew a _lot_ of smart people. But she had never seen a face come alive like her godson’s did when he had a tool in his hand. It was like his soul lit on fire, and Peggy loved to watch what happened when that brain and that passion merged. She had a good grasp on the understanding of physics, calculus, and mechanics, but what that boy did defied reality and left her reeling. And so damn proud.

Peggy didn’t know many twelve year olds (it had been a long time since her own children had been so young), but she knew enough about them to know that Tony was special. The best person to understand could have been, _should_ have been Howard. But that man was buried so deep in alcohol, a hopeless search, and his own issues and ego that he barely spared a glance for the boy that hovered, desperate and hopeful, at his elbow every time he was home.

Tony blew his professors away, so much so that he had moved rapidly through even the advanced schooling that had been prepared for him, and now he mostly had university professors from all over the state that came to the boarding school just to teach him. It was unheard of, a single student receiving that kind of attention at the school, but Howard’s money and Tony’s propensity for using power tools when he was bored opened all kinds of doors. 

He was special, Peggy knew. Special in ways that people just didn’t understand. Special in a way that would change the world, she had no doubt.

His loosely curly hair kept darkening as he got older, the brown close to Peggy’s shade now as he neared puberty, but his lovely brown eyes still hadn’t changed much, still lighting with mischief and laughter. Just perhaps not as often as they used to. He still hugged his Aunt Peggy like he was delighted to be in her presence, and even though his mind constantly swirled with the kinds of technical and mathematical data that reached beyond normal human minds, he still found the time to spar and talk and laugh and just be with her whenever she was around.

He didn’t ask for Cap stories anymore. Once he had put the pieces together as a five year old, the stories lost some of their magic. Steve Rogers who wanted to be a solider was the same Rogers that his daddy left him to go look for sometimes, missing important events in favor of searching for a ghost. Tony couldn’t enjoy the stories anymore when he felt so confused and conflicted about the hero in them.

It broke Peggy’s heart, to see the innocence fade in her godson, to watch the light go out in his eyes when Howard brushed right past him, sparing barely a word, no longer even responding to the many and continuous attempts Peggy made to shame him into being a better father. Nothing worked. And now… she was worried that it was growing too late for both of them. Tony was giving up, and once he did, there would be nothing Howard could do to repair the damage.

Peggy, Maria, Ana, and Jarvis did everything they could to fill that gap. All of them knew the truth of the situation, but that didn’t stop them from assuring Tony that Howard loved him, that he just didn’t know how to show it. Tony would nod, try to force a smile, but words only went so far. He was far too smart now, in every way, to be mollified by the excuses anymore.

So Tony’s family, such as it was, threw themselves into making sure that the boy knew exactly how much they loved him, showing him in every way possible that he was not alone, that he was loved, that he was precious to them. They asked about his experiments, the things he built, the friends he made at school, anything and everything he showed interest in was encouraged, and the more he learned, the more his family learned, trying to keep up with the genius that was budding before their eyes.

There was nothing Peggy wouldn’t have done for that precious, brilliant spark. Nothing.

 

_1986_

Edwin Jarvis couldn’t even speak for a moment when he first saw the robot that the teenaged Tony Stark was working on in a corner of his father’s workshop, completely taken aback at what ingenuity went into its construction. It was an arm, a large metal thing on a rolling base, with a gripper claw on the end that picked up an egg with delicate precision, then placed it gently into an empty crystal wine goblet.

“Pretty nifty, huh?”

The sixteen year old Tony Stark was grinning from behind a computer, typing in commands as fast as his fingers could fly.

“Sir, it is incredible. I have no doubt that you will win the competition. I have never seen the like, not even from your father.”

A flush rose in Tony’s cheeks, and he glanced down at the computer screen, pretending to be checking something, but a little smile lurked around the corners of his mouth at the praise.

“Still need to finish all the coding, but it’ll be good when I’m done. I’ll name the next one after you. Teach it to dust or something so you don’t have to keep cleaning up after me.”

Jarvis smiled, quite touched, but just shook his head. “You can do so many more things than that, sir. There is greatness ahead for you, and this is only the beginning.”

That made Tony grin. “You should see the idea I’ve got for a racecar, Jarvis. But you’ve gotta promise not to tell Dad. He’d flip if he knew.”

 

_1987_

The first time Peggy Carter saw the seventeen year old Anthony Edward Stark after two years away on a long and critical mission for SHIELD, her first thought was, _“He looks just like Howard.”_

It had been so long since she’d seen her godson in person, she’d been out of the country with work almost the entire time, and her short stops home never coincided with a time when Tony was home. They had written letters and spoken on the phone as often as possible, but it wasn’t the same, and she had missed his buoyant light in her life. But she wouldn’t have missed today for all the world. _Seventeen years old_ , graduating from _college_ at the top of his class. She couldn’t have been prouder if he had been her own son.

Tony caught sight of her through the crowd of other graduates and families after the ceremony, recognizing her instantly despite the increased amount of silver that was liberally threaded through her dark hair, and a huge grin split his face as he came running over to her, holding his graduation cap on his head as his gown billowed around him. 

“Aunt Peggy!” 

He barreled into her with all the enthusiasm of a teenager, and it briefly made her groan internally because she was not as young as she used to be.

“Tony, my darling, I am so proud!” She whispered as she hugged him, her eyes getting a little wet.

“It’s because I’m a genius, and I can even say that as a fact because there were tests and everything and I _aced them_.”

Drawing back, Peggy cupped his face in her hands and just looked at him. He was taller than her now by a few inches, he’d only been just her height when she left. His face was more angular, his jaw more defined, and there was the roughness of facial hair under her palm where a five o’clock shadow was just thinking about sprouting. His hair was even a shade darker, the same blackish-brown as Howard’s, but the sparkling eyes were just the same.

“I missed you,” She said simply, and he beamed as he threw his arms around her again. 

“How long are you here? You have to meet Rhodey! He’s my roommate, we’re best friends. Is mom here?” His eyes flicked up to search the crowd.

Peggy noticed that he didn’t ask about Howard. And it made her angry, because she knew he wasn’t there, and that Tony knew better than to ask.

“She’s here, of course, and so are Jarvis and Ana, but I haven’t seen them yet. I only just barely got here in time, I was so afraid I’d miss it.” Peggy grabbed his hands and looked him over again, so taken aback by how much older he looked, and so very, very proud of him.

“If you’re gonna get all mushy and weepy, I’m gonna need to have a drink first.”

He was joking, but Peggy knew too well that alcoholism ran in the family, and keeping Tony as far away from that habit as possible was at the top of her to-do list now that she was home. “Don’t you dare. Just give me one more hug, then we’ll go find the others.”

Tony hugged her like he always had, like he felt comforted in her arms. His shoulders relaxed and he rested his head on her shoulder, and for just a moment Peggy forgot to ache for the little boy that had been and instead felt joy for the young man of now.

He had so much ahead of him, and he was going to do so many great things. She couldn’t wait to watch him change the world.

 

_December 1991_

“Jarvis… How is he?”

“He is…” The man sighed, and Peggy knew him so well, she could hear every note of stress and worry and sorrow in his voice through the phone. “It’s bad, Peggy. It’s very bad.”


	2. Bleeding Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's life has never been easy... but this kind of suffering is not something he ever could have prepared for. Even Peggy doesn't know how to get him through it. All she can do is try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we ended up bumping it up to three chapters. Apparently. I had no idea I'd have that much when I posted the first chapter, then things just kind of happened and spiraled out of control and here we are!
> 
> BTW, the endearment Ana uses for Tony is a Hungarian term meaning something like sweetie, darling, honey, or beloved. At least, according to Google. If that is wrong, please let me know! I also had Google give me ideas for traditional Hungarian dishes, so that's where those came from in the last chapter, and this one. Also, the dates in this get more specific as opposed to the last chapter, since there is a more set timeline in Tony's later years. I am using the MCU timeline available [here](http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/Timeline). It isn't Marvel official, but it is comprehensive and I am in love with it because it has EVERYTHING!
> 
> This chapter... is sad. And angsty. And heartbreaking. This is some heavy stuff, and I wasn't planning on it. Warning for thoughts and intentions of attempting suicide.
> 
> If I need to add tags for anything else, please let me know! Also, if you spot typos or if there is a sentence that doesn't read smoothly, let me know as well! The next chapter is nearly done, I'm just doing the fine-tuning (since I thought it was all going to be one chapter, but then... yeah), so that will be up ASAP.
> 
> I HAVE LOVED THE COMMENTS I HAVE RECEIVED. There are no words. I literally squee'd with joy and nearly cried every time I saw I had one. It means the world to me.

**Chapter Two**  
_Bleeding Tears_

 

_December 17, 1991_

It hit Peggy like something worse than a bullet, something much worse. And she knew very well how much a bullet could hurt.

This, this was like being ripped apart from the inside, the shock fading and the realization setting in, utterly destroying her.

Howard and Maria… just _gone_ , just like that…

Peggy didn’t even know if she was crying, she was staring unseeing at whatever was in front of her, only aware of the all-encompassing pain. Nothing could possibly be worse than this.

And that’s when it _did_ get worse. Because suddenly, through her own agony, she remembered…

Oh no… _Tony_ …

\---------------------------------

“Jarvis… How is he?”

“He is…” The man sighed, and Peggy knew him so well, she could hear every note of stress and worry and sorrow in his voice through the phone. “It’s bad, Peggy. It’s very bad.”

Peggy closed her eyes, feeling the tears this time. “I’m… I’m coming now. I’m going to the airport right now.”

“I… admit, I am very relieved.” Her dear friend’s voice was rough and a little bit broken. “Very relieved indeed.”

“How are you and Ana?”

“As well as can be expected. The shock is still… I’m sure you understand. Ana is with Tony now. Well, she’s outside his room. After the police left, he went in there and he hasn’t come out since.”

Peggy moved closer to the receiver on the wall, the phone cord twisting tightly around her fingers. “I’m coming right now.”

“I know. Please, Peggy… travel safely.”

Those words weren’t ever going to be benign again. Not after this.

“I will. I promise.”

The drive from her apartment in Brooklyn to the Stark mansion upstate gave Peggy far too much time to think, and from time to time she could barely see the road through her tears. But by the time she finally pulled up to the mansion, she could think of nothing else but her godson.

“Where is he?” Peggy murmured as she stepped inside the house, and across from the door, Jarvis untucked one arm from around his crying wife and gestured to Howard’s office.

“I can’t get through to him,” Ana whispered as she looked at Peggy, her blue eyes swollen and rimmed with red, gray hair falling over her forehead. “He’s so lost, and I can’t get through to him.

Peggy put a hand on each of their shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze, then headed for Howard’s office, knocking quietly.

\--------------------------

When Peggy Carter saw the twenty-one year old Anthony Edward Stark for the first time after Howard and Maria Stark were killed in a horrific accident… she thought about how much he looked like his father.

His dark hair was mussed and falling in his face, and his eyes were bloodshot. He smelled stale and un-showered, his cheeks and jaw were covered in stubble, his clothes looked slept in, and there was a glass of liquor in his hand.

His throat worked when he saw her, but he didn’t say anything. Merely stepped back from the door, and went back around the desk, sitting in Howard’s chair. He lifted the glass to his lips with a shaking hand, and drained it, then set it on the desk with a clatter. “Want one? I sure do.”

“Tony. Oh, my love.” She moved as fast as her aging body would allow her (which was still pretty damn fast for seventy years old, thank you very much), circling the desk and placing gentle hands on either side of her godson’s face, tipping up so he would look at her.

“Darling, I’m so sorry.”

For just a moment, something flashed in his eyes, some kind of indescribable pain, but it disappeared as soon as it came as he moved, looking away. “Gotta plan the funeral.”

“Not right now, you don’t. There will be time for that.”

“People are gonna be calling… soon as it gets out, there will be so many people calling…” 

Tony had never been uncomfortable around people, able to charm a crowd as easily as a single individual, but clearly the thought of having to face the entire world in these circumstances was too much for him to bear.

Honestly, everything right now was probably too much for him to bear. She couldn’t even imagine…

“Come on, dearest.” Peggy looped an arm under his and tugged upward, not relenting until Tony got unsteadily to his feet. Jarvis and Ana were just outside the door, their expressions equal parts anxious and relieved. Jarvis took Tony’s other arm, Ana still tucked at her husband's side, and the four of them made their way to the stairs.

As they passed the sitting room, the one Maria favored, with the piano in it… Tony paused and stared into the room, his eyes on the instrument. He stood there for a long moment, bringing the other three to a stop, not moving, not even blinking, just… staring.

Then, with no warning, his legs wobbled and just collapsed under him. His arm slipped right out of Peggy’s hands and he thumped to the floor.

“Oh, darling,” It was difficult to kneel on the floor, her knees weren't what they used to be, but she managed it, ignoring the protests from her creaking joints as she wrapped her arms around her precious godson.

Jarvis leaned down and murmured in Peggy’s ear, “He’s been awake for at least two days now, he was down in the workshop before, and then…”

Peggy’s eyes went blurry with tears, but she swallowed them back. “Come on, my love, we’ll get you to bed and you’ll feel much better after you get some sleep.”

It was a lie, but it was all she could give him.

It took Peggy and both the Jarvises to get Tony back on his feet again, and all three of them escorted him through the house and to his bedroom. Ana went to make tea as Peggy and Jarvis made Tony as comfortable as they could manage when he was sitting on the edge of his bed as immobile as a doll.

“Here, _lelkem_ , drink this.” Ana set the cup of tea on the bedside table when she returned and pressed a kiss to Tony’s head, stroking her slightly age-gnarled fingers through his hair. She hadn’t used that endearment for Tony in ages, but clearly the situation called for it now. “I’ll make paprikash for dinner, all right? Your favorite?” Her voice was slightly deeper with age now than it had been when Peggy had first met the woman so many years ago, and rough with tears, but the open love and affection she felt for Tony was clear as crystal, just the same as it had been back then.

For a moment it seemed that Tony wasn’t going to react at all, but at the last moment as Ana pulled away, he leaned his head into her touch and nodded a little, his hand finding hers. “Thank you.”

She cradled his head to her stomach and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “We love you so much, _lelkem_. We are here for you, always.”

He nodded against her, his hair tangling against her shirt with the motion, and he kissed Ana’s wrinkled cheek when she leaned down to press another kiss to his head. Ana gently squeezed her husband’s hand as she left the room, sending one more gaze back at Tony, then left Peggy and Jarvis to it.

“Sir, take a few sips first, then you can sleep,” Jarvis coaxed, carefully placing the warm teacup into Tony’s shaking hands. “She’ll be terribly offended if you don’t have at least a little bit.”

The barest ghost of a smile lifted the corners of Tony’s mouth, and he obediently took a few swallows of the tea, then handed it back to Jarvis with a murmured, “Thanks.”

“Alright,” Peggy said, trying to keep her voice steady, “To bed with you. You’ve got bags under your eyes so big I could keep my gun in them.”

Another wisp of a smile, then Tony was scooting under the covers Peggy lifted for him, curling on his side in the fetal position with his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, facing away from his godmother and butler.

“I’ll stay with him,” Peggy whispered to Jarvis as he moved to the door with the cup of tea in his hands, his aged face looking so sorrowful.

“Thank you,” He whispered, not taking his eyes off Tony's still form. “I… simply do not know what to do.”

Peggy squeezed Jarvis’ arm gently before he left, then went around to the other side of the large bed and sat down, kicking her shoes off and adjusting the pillows behind her back so that she was comfortable. Tony looked up at her, his eyes bleary and empty, and without a word he slid his hand to her across the covers.

Peggy took it, holding her godson’s hand in her lap with a firm but gentle grip, trying to tell him without words that she wasn’t going anywhere, and that it would be alright. She softly stroked her fingers through his tangled hair, smoothing the unruly locks, and with a sudden piercing moment of nostalgia, remembered a time so very long ago when Tony would have asked in that sweet, young voice, _“Aunt Peggy, can I have a Cap story?”_

If only she could make everything better right in this moment like she had sometimes been able to do then. When Tony was a child, a mere hug could transform tears into smiles, the promise of a Cap story could change a pout into a grin, and nothing was ever so bad that Aunt Peggy couldn’t fix it. She _ached_ to be able to fix this, to somehow bring Howard and Maria back, to pull Tony back from this chasm of grief he was tottering on the edge of.

Tony mumbled something unintelligible, and Peggy looked down at him, realizing that he had fallen asleep in mere minutes. But it was not a restful sleep, his eyes moved under his eyelids, he twitched and fidgeted, and a sound that was almost a whimper squeezed from his throat.

She shifted, trying to lean over and perhaps murmur something soothing in his ear, and Tony’s hand suddenly tightened almost painfully on hers.

“Don’t go,” He pleaded, eyes still squeezed tightly shut in uneasy sleep. “Stay. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

The tears were immediate, and Peggy’s breath rushed out of her shakily. Scooting closer, she tugged Tony’s arm so that it was wrapped around her waist, and it only took a little bit of nudging to get him, in his half-asleep state, to move close enough that his head rested on her hip and his other arm wound around her back. She couldn’t chase the nightmares away, but by damn, she could make sure he could feel her there with him. So he would know that he wasn’t alone.

\-----------------------

Sometime later, Peggy awoke with an awful crick in her neck, an ache in her back, and a pins and needles sensation in her legs. Getting old really was the most tedious thing.

She readjusted her body’s position slowly, rolling her head gingerly from side to side and flexing her feet, taking care not to disturb Tony. He was still asleep with his head pillowed on her hip, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks, arms still wrapped around her.

In spite of the discomfort, Peggy would have gladly stayed there for a week, as long as Tony was getting the sleep he so desperately needed. But it was only about fifteen minutes more before he started to shift around, obviously waking up. She carded her fingers through his hair again, vainly hoping to lull him back to sleep, but his eyes opened anyway.

She could sense his brief confusion, see his forehead tense as his eyebrows furrowed… then he went absolutely still.

His voice was _so young_ , so little and lost, when he whispered, “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

They cried together then, holding on to each other and sobbing out their anguish, raw sobs that were harsh in the quiet. Tony crying for his mom, and the man he’d so desperately wanted to be his dad, Peggy crying for the loss of her dear friends, and the young man she held in her arms that was facing a future that had suddenly become so much more empty and frightening.

Ana and Jarvis joined them soon after, the four of them crowded together on the bed, holding on to each other in their grief, finding some small solace in this little hand-picked family they had made together over the years.

In the days that followed, the awful days spent trying to figure out a future without Howard and Maria, that was the only thing that made it bearable.

 

_February 1992_

It had been three months, and it was still difficult to look up at the Stark mansion and know that Howard and Maria were no longer in its walls. Peggy wasn’t sure that was ever going to change as she parked her car and got out, having come at Tony’s request.

“Hey, Aunt Peggy,”

She turned around towards the house with a smile on her face at hearing her godson’s voice… then the smile slid right off her face when she saw the cigarette dangling between his lips.

“Anthony Edward Stark, you get that thing out of your mouth right now.”

He smiled a little, but there wasn’t even the faintest hint of a sparkle in his eyes. “Aw, come on, Aunt Peg.”

She was… suddenly so angry, and so disappointed, and she let it all show on her face as she stared him down. She knew exactly the kind of downward spiral he was on, and she was not for one moment going to let him think she was going to tolerate it. She might not be able to pry the alcohol out of his hands, but she could at least keep him from giving himself lung cancer.

Tony huffed out a frustrated sigh and took the cigarette out of his mouth, twiddling it between his fingers for a moment before dropping it to the ground and smothering it with his shoe. “Well, that stare is still terrifying as always.” He stepped forward and hugged her, and even though Peggy was tempted to resist and perhaps give him a lecture, she gave in and hugged him back. Lecture later. Right now, he certainly looked like he needed a hug more than any words she could possibly say.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Tony whispered into her salt and pepper hair, his shoulders loosening a little when Peggy rubbed his back. “I could use some advice.”

“Promise me that you’ll never smoke again, and I’ll give you all the advice you can handle.”

A little smirk tilted Tony’s lips as he looped his arms through his godmother’s and led them both into the house and towards kitchen. “Jarvis and Ana are gone, said something about an appointment. She made cookies though.” He shot Peggy a boyish grin. “The good ones.”

Peggy’s eyebrows briefly furrowed. Jarvis and Ana seemed to have a lot of appointments lately. She was going to have to find out if she needed to worry. “Darling, all of Ana’s cookies are good ones.”

“These ones are the chocolate cinnamon ones.”

“Oh, you’re right, those _are_ the good ones!”

With a chuckle, Tony got the two of them settled at the small wood table in the kitchen, the one in the corner that he, Peggy, and the Jarvises had always used instead of either of the formal dining rooms, with a plate of Ana’s cookies and glasses of milk.

“So,” Peggy took one of the cookies, smiling at the delicious aroma that still hung warm and sweet in the air. “What advice are you seeking today?”

Tony already had most of a cookie in his mouth, and he had to chew and swallow, washing it down with milk before he could reply. “CEO. To do or not to do.”

“Ah. It’s a big job.”

Tony nodded, making a little bit of a face. “The paperwork, the _meetings_ , ugh.”

“Not fun, I’ll guarantee you. But you already know the benefits, or you wouldn’t be asking me.” Peggy had to resist the urge to shove the entire cookie in her mouth too (they were _that_ good), and instead took several lady-like bites as she watched Tony.

“I could do so much, Aunt Peggy. I have so many ideas, and I feel like… maybe I can finally share them with the world. Maybe I can make it better, maybe I can make a difference.”

“I have no doubt that you can. In fact, I’m counting on it, whether or not you do take the job.”

Tony flashed her a grateful smile before looking down at the table, munching on his third cookie. “Obie… he doesn’t think I’m ready. Even offered to buy me out, if I wanted. Keep the name, just let the business go to him permanently.”

Peggy frowned, disliking that idea instantly. She… had mixed feelings about Obadiah Stane. She had never liked his influence when it came to Howard, especially the focus on weapons manufacturing that Stane had pushed for, but there was nothing the man had done to justify her mistrust. It was just a feeling she had. “Is that what you want?”

Tony shrugged, his eyebrows contracting briefly. “I don’t know. It’s not what Dad would have wanted, I don’t think. Or, maybe he would. God knows he never thought I’d be able to handle it.”

“Well, that was his own stupidity talking,” Peggy snapped, realizing that she was just as surprised as Tony was that the bitter words had escaped her mouth.

A bit of a smile flirted on Tony’s face. “Was that just a hint of the badass former Agent Carter I just heard?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hold back a grin. “Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I stopped being a badass. There is still a gun in my purse, thank you very much.”

Tony laughed outright and leaned across the table to plant a kiss on her cheek. “I love you.”

“I know you do. And darling, don’t let that man push you into anything you don’t want to do. I know it’s hard, it’s an enormous job, and it will take incredible work and dedication on your part. But I know you can do it. You can do anything you set your mind to, Tony, and I’ve been watching you change the world in increments since you were a child. This is just the next step, if it’s a step you are ready for. If you don’t want it, you don’t have to do it. But don’t let Obadiah Stane take it away from you if you aren’t willing to let it go.”

Tony nodded, absently rolling the edge of his tipped glass along the surface of the table, gaze slightly unfocused as he obviously thought things over. “Okay. I’ll keep thinking about it.”

Peggy nudged the plate of cookies closer to him. “Have another cookie, it’ll help.”

He grinned at her and obediently took another cookie. “I think Ana infuses them with magic.”

Peggy took another cookie as well. “I would not be in the slightest bit surprised.”

 

_December 14, 1995_

Peggy knew what she was walking into before she opened the door to the mansion, leaning on her cane as she worked the key into the lock. It was the third week of December, only two days until the 16th, and if the past three years had been anything to go by… Tony would be right in the middle of what she was coming to think of as his “blackout week”. A few days before and after the anniversary of Howard and Maria’s deaths, Tony would just disappear. He wouldn’t be in his top floor office at Stark Industries, he would be unreachable by phone, and as far as Peggy knew, she and the Jarvises were the only ones that had ever seen him when he shut himself away like this.

And this year… it would be so much worse. Jarvis… dear, wonderful Mr. Jarvis, had only just joined his Ana in their shared grave plot a month ago. The loss was still fresh, Ana’s as well, the two of them fading out of this life within weeks of each other, Ana from cancer, and Jarvis from heart disease. (He had actually had the _gall_ to feebly joke after Ana’s funeral that he was dying of a broken heart. Peggy had nearly punched him right in the face, even as he sat in his wheelchair at Ana’s grave site, but both of them had started crying.)

Entering the mansion and not seeing Jarvis on the other side of the door, not smelling any of Ana’s cooking, it was the worst kind of reminder that there were two less people on the Earth that Peggy counted so beloved to her.

So she knew, as she approached Howard’s office (she still thought of it like that, somehow it would always be Howard’s office, even if Tony used it sometimes now), what she would find on the other side of the door, but it still felt like a knife to the heart to see it.

It was probably a miracle Tony was still alive, by the look of him. His complexion was waxy and oily, unhealthily pale, and his hair was in a frightful state, as if it had been unwashed for a week and then raked through and pulled on over and over. There were… four empty liquor bottles on the desk, in addition to the open decanter that Tony had his hand wrapped around. A broken tumbler was on the floor on the other side of the desk, either knocked off or dropped from uncontrollably shaking fingers. His eyes were the worst, bloodshot and swollen, his eyelids puffy and pink, normally sparkling brown eyes dull as dirt. Although, admittedly, his eyes had sparkled much less frequently in the past four years…

He barely looked up as Peggy came through the door, not even a flicker of emotion on his face that looked both much older and much younger than his twenty-five years.

“Is there ever going to be a December that you don’t do this?” She asked quietly, knowing that this was the only time he ever even let himself _try_ to process his grief, wishing that there was something she could do.

Tony didn’t reply, just tugged the decanter closer, his other hand appearing from under the edge of the desk with another tumbler in his hand. He was shaking so badly he nearly broke the glass, and it rattled on the expensive wood as he tried to set it down. He fumbled with the decanter, his fingers not working properly, trying to pour more liquid poison into the fingerprint-smudged tumbler.

“Never feels like Christmas anymore, so really, what’s the point of being sober for it?”

Stepping forward, wishing she didn’t have to lean on her cane to do so, Peggy snatched the crystal decanter out of his reach, her face darkening in anger. “Damn it, Tony. I’m not going to watch you drink yourself to death.”

“Why not?” He shot back, his face twisted with the kind of dark thoughts and emotions that made her legitimately afraid. “There’s no one left to care.”

She went around the desk and grabbed his chin with her free hand, not gently, and forced him to look up at her as she bent over him. “ _I care_ , you reckless idiot. How _dare_ you forget that?”

There was silence for a moment, shock obvious on Tony’s face at her outburst, and then suddenly his honey-brown eyes filled with tears.

“I can’t do this, Aunt Peggy.” He whispered brokenly, sounding so young.

Her heart just utterly broke for him. Leaning forward, she dropped her cane and pulled the young man into her arms, feeling his shoulders shake as he fell into her embrace, soft sobs muffled against her middle as she held him tight. “Oh, my darling. I’m so sorry. It’s going to be all right.”

Tony nearly fell asleep before he finally finished crying, the emotions rushing out of him and draining him as they went, murmuring, "I'm sorry" over and over again. Peggy’s knees and back were nearly screaming in agony by the time he finally lifted his head, and he had to help hold her up while she winced at the aches and pins and needles.

“Alright, here is what we’re going to do,” She said, leaning against Tony while she carefully shook her legs out one at a time (they nearly went over, Tony was so saturated with alcohol he had nearly no balance left, but a grip on the desk saved him). “First, you are going to clean up. You are reminding me strongly of my time in the war, all those men with limited hygiene facilities, and that is an olfactory memory lane I’d care not to travel.”

Tony smiled, only a little bit hollow, and there was even the tiniest spark in his eyes as he nodded. He still looked like hell as he wiped his face on his shirt sleeve, but there was a little bit more of himself in there somewhere. “Alright. I… I don’t have any food in the house. Just been ordering in. When I think about it...”

Peggy motioned them forward, letting Tony escort her out of the room. “I’ll get us fish and chips, is that little place still open?”

“It better be, you’ll be ranting about it all night if your _only acceptable option for good fish and chips in the States_ isn’t there anymore.” Tony even mimicked her accent, the cheeky thing.

Peggy was strongly tempted to give him a little pinch for his sassiness, but he was so drunk he wouldn’t even feel it. “I’ll wait in the blue parlor, it’s closest to the door. And give me your credit card, I’m splurging on the good halibut and you’re buying.”

Tony smiled fondly and rested his cheek against his godmother’s head as they weaved slowly into the sitting room Peggy chose, having to sit down for a moment himself before his head stopped spinning enough for him to consider tackling the stairs. Or elevator. Maybe elevator would be best...

Peggy was doing that thing where she watched him without seeming to watch him as she picked up the receiver of the antique phone on the side table, the device still in good working order. She had the number of the little British café memorized, and she entered the number on the rotary dial without pause. “Do you want clam chowder?”

Tony kind of wanted to throw up, actually, especially at the mention of food, but he managed to hold back the urge. He’d vomit upstairs, he could wait that long. “Sure. Extra t—” He slammed his mouth shut against the next wave of nausea.

“Extra tartar sauce, yes, I remember. Now go upstairs before you’re sick all over this lovely rug, Jarvis will come back from the grave if you make a mess of it.”

Tony seriously considered it as got to his feet with some difficulty, pale and shaky, but he really didn't want to clean that kind of mess up himself just in case the disapproving ghost of Jarvis didn't appear. So he did manage to make it all the way to his bathroom before he threw up everything he’d ever eaten in his _life_ , and all of his internal organs as well.

He rested his cheek on the toilet seat, trying to figure out how to breathe without gagging again, and thought of his godmother downstairs.

Two minutes. If she’d been two minutes later in getting there, she would have found out. Tony would have had the gun in his hands, and she would have known what he’d been thinking, even planning. Five more minutes, and he would have already been dead on the floor, blood on the carpet and a bullet in his head.

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of taking his own life. Not even the first time he’d been ready to ring Death’s doorbell and hand himself over on the doorstep. But it was the first time he’d been nearly caught in the act, and he was suddenly incredibly grateful that he was so drunk it had taken him nearly fifteen minutes just to load the handgun Howard had always kept in the desk. He’d been entertaining deeply maudlin thoughts as he’d struggled with the slippery bullets, wondering if Howard ever sat at that desk and contemplated his own mortality, staring down at the gun and yearning for the abrupt end on the other side of the bang.

Faintly, Tony could hear Peggy talking downstairs, placing their food order with the fish and chips shop. He hoped against hope that she was unaware how close she had come to walking into an entirely different situation earlier than peeling alcohol out of her godson’s hands. He nearly threw up again at the thought of her cradling his lifeless body, begging him to come back.

He didn’t deserve to have her in his life, Tony knew that with every fiber of his being. He had never deserved his Aunt Peggy. But dear Lord, he was so grateful he had her. Especially now, the loss of Jarvis coming so close on the heels of losing Ana, the huge emptiness of the house echoing and taunting all the time.

There was a tap on the bathroom door and he jumped.

“Tony? You alright?”

He sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, sorry that Peggy had felt the need to force herself to the elevator (Tony had it installed a few years ago with her in mind) so she could check on him. “Yeah. Threw up everything but my toenails.”

“Good for you, darling.” Peggy’s voice was drier than dust. “I bribed them to have the delivery boy stop by the store and bring some gingerale and saltines as well, in case you’re not up to real food quite yet."

He didn't deserve her. He _so_ did not deserve her. She deserved someone who was so much better than he was.

"Do you need any help? I can push you into the swimming pool downstairs if the shower is a bit too much right now.” 

Tony smiled in spite of himself. “Nah, I’m okay. Gonna drag myself in there.”

“Alright. I’ll wait out here.”

He could hear her move away from the door, and the slight creak of the chair he had by his desk in the bedroom that was littered with all sorts of junk, but mostly schematics for different things he was thinking of bringing to life in the workshop.

Once Tony had finally managed a shower (and even a shave, since the three days of stubble was starting to itch like mad), the two ensconced themselves back in the blue parlor, greasy paper bags full of food in their hands. Tony still felt a little sick, but now he was pretty sure most of that was because he hadn’t eaten in days and Peggy had all but forced him to drink two full glasses of water to circumvent the worse parts of the hangover he’d be dealing with later. Other than that, he felt much more like himself, and he found himself falling into a comfortable pattern of eating small bites and talking with Aunt Peggy, both of them chuckling about the look on the delivery boy’s face when Tony had slapped a few hundred dollar bills into his hand in exchange for the twenty dollars’ worth of food and a six-pack of gingerale.

\---------------------

The next three days passed in a similar way. Peggy babysat her twenty-five year old godson, supervising him to make sure he didn’t sneak off for a drink, making sure he ate and slept, even dragging him with her to the grocery store once to get food that had some nutritional value.

“Do you think you might want to move out?” She asked Tony on the third day, setting a bowl of tossed salad on the table in the kitchen while he pulled a simple chicken pot pie out of the oven. (He made the salad, she made the pie. He still had a tendency to get distracted and burn everything near a heat source, so she didn't let him man the stove too much.)

“You mean out of here altogether?” Tony seemed surprised at the suggestion, but then he was quiet in a thinking sort of way through most of the meal. Finally, once they were clearing the plates away, he brought it up again.

“I think I might. Want to move out, I mean. Try something new.”

“You’d be wise to get someone to help you at work, as well. An assistant, perhaps. Not like Mr. Hogan, someone that can do the business side of things.”

Tony nodded, rinsing off their plates and loading them into the dishwasher while Peggy packaged the leftovers and put them in the fridge. “Yeah. Not a bad idea. I’ll see what I can do.”

Tony didn’t end up moving out, or getting an assistant, for a few more years. Both were changes that he had to take slowly, especially moving out, since he’d decided to build his own mansion on an impossible cliff in Malibu, California and that took time. But they were good changes, according to Peggy.

Especially Pepper Potts.

 

_2008_

Peggy knew from the moment she met the woman sometime in 2000, that there was something special between Pepper Potts and Tony Stark, something that would someday rival and hopefully exceed the bond Peggy cherished with her godson if the two would only let it grow. Pepper was lovely and capable and spirited and didn’t let Tony get away with being an idiot, something Peggy had a deep and personal appreciation for. Someday the two would stop mooning over each other when they thought no one was looking and build a future together, Peggy knew it. She hoped she’d be there to see it, but even if she wasn’t, she’d be content knowing that Tony had someone in his life that would keep him from self-destructing.

“You know, you really should just ask her out.” Peggy commented while pouring a cup of tea in the cozy sitting room of her house in Winchester, England, one afternoon eight years later after Tony finished having a conversation with his PA on that fancy phone of his. A projection of Pepper’s face had hovered in the air while the two argued about whether or not Tony would be attending a benefit luncheon, a finance meeting, and a strip club. In that order. Tony voted no, no, and yes, Pepper voted the opposite, so they settled for yes, no, and no, to make sure everyone was unhappy.

“Ha, she’s too good for me and she knows it.” Tony made the flippant comment before he really thought about it, and Peggy had to smother a laugh as he obviously realized what the both of them had just said, his eyes going wide with surprise as he sat down and picked up his teacup. They were having their monthly visit, something Tony religiously maintained, especially now that Peggy had retired and moved back to England and he was in California.

“She’s lovely.” Peggy affirmed. “I’ve always liked her.”

Tony’s brain was still working on her previous suggestion, but he managed a smile. “She likes you too. Probably has something to do with that dry British humor.”

“I think it’s less the humor and more the fact that I told her all my secrets about how to get you to cooperate with common sense.”

Tony put a mock-offended expression on his face, his hand splayed on his chest as his jaw dropped in shock. “Aunt Peggy! How could you?!”

She laughed, taking a sip of tea as she shrugged. “Just waiting for you to realize how perfect you are for each other, and until you do, I will use every weapon in my considerable arsenal to nudge you in that direction.”

_“I fully support the former Agent Carter in this instance.”_ A voice said from Tony’s pocket, and Peggy laughed at the AI’s input.

“Really, that is uncanny, Tony. Spooky, but uncanny. Jarvis would have loved and hated it in equal measures.”

“Yeah, well, I promised him I’d make him a robot someday. Only took me twenty years to make good on it.”

\-------------------

Half a day later, once Tony had flown back to Malibu, his conversation with Aunt Peggy was still on his mind. Probably witchcraft, that.

He couldn’t stop Pepper’s face from popping up in his head, and Peggy’s suggestion to ask her out, and he had to work very, very hard not to examine his own feelings on the matter.

Eventually, a combination of it all had snarled up in his head so disastrously that he could think of nothing else, and he found himself making a purchase online after browsing on the internet for a good two hours while he should have been doing literally anything else, specifically sleeping. Which led to him making a truly bizarre phone call.

“Hey, boss.” Happy answered, clearly undisturbed and unsurprised that it was well after midnight.

“Hey Hap. Gonna need you to make a pickup for me in a few days.” Tony glanced at the email alert Jarvis had pulled up, a confirmation of Tony’s order.

“Sure thing, what am I getting?”

“A ring.”

It took a lot to surprise Happy these days, the man was practically unflappable, but that certainly made him pause. “A… a ring, boss?”

“Yep, diamond ring. I picked it out, you’ll just need to pick it up.”

Tony had obviously thrown his body guard, driver, and good friend a doozy, because the man was still kind of stuttering. “Are you… is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

“Happy, I can’t take a piss without you knowing about it. No, just… seems like a good thing to have on hand.” Tony steadfastly ignored the way Pepper’s face immediately came to mind. 

Damn Aunt Peggy. All her fault. Next time he visited, he’d take her the fudge she loved, the kind that had the nuts in it. They’d get stuck in her bridgework and annoy her. He may not be able to get truly upset with his beloved godmother, but he could bring her a present that would be slightly inconvenient. That would show her.

\------------------------

“Got that thing for you, boss.” Happy mentioned a few days later as he entered Tony’s workshop, pulling a black velvet box out of his pocket.

Tony’s hands were dancing in midair, making adjustments to a missile system he was working on for the military, the holoscreen casting a blue glow on his face. “Happy, I’m flattered, but we both know I’m not your type.”

The man was so used to it by now that Tony’s comment didn’t even require an eye roll. He popped open the box and gave the ring a once-over before holding it out for his boss to inspect. “It looks good, tasteful. Chicks dig that stuff.”

Tony glanced at the ring, sparkling even in the slightly dim ambient light, but didn’t move to take it. “Looks good.”

“You want me to put it somewhere?”

“No, just… keep it on you.”

“Oh, sorry, here,” Happy put the box down, knowing that Tony didn’t like to be handed things.

“No, Hap, it’s not that just… hold onto it for me.”

Happy was confused, but he nodded and put the box back in his pocket. “Sure thing, boss. That the Jericho you’ve been talking about?” He nodded to the holoscreen Tony was working on.

“Yep. Getting close. Got that demo in Yuma in a couple months, we’ll be good to go by then.”

 

_February 13, 2009_

“Peggy…” Pepper’s voice was shaking on the other end of the line, and Peggy immediately knew that it was bad news.

She couldn’t keep the panic from rising in her chest. “What is it? Is Tony alright?”

“I don’t know.” The other woman’s voice broke. “He was in Afghanistan doing a weapons demonstration, and… they were attacked. They can’t find him, Peggy. They don’t know where he is. We don’t know if he’s been kidnapped, or even if he’s still alive.”


	3. I'm Not Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Tony thought his life was crazy and exciting before, it was nothing compared to what it was like after Iron Man became a thing.
> 
> His Aunt Peggy would have to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, honey bunnies. And this is the one that made me cry. I find it far less angsty than the last one, but far more emotional. So... yeah. Tissues all around.
> 
> I know very little about Alzheimer's, so if there are any inconsistencies there, I apologize. I did my best.
> 
> If we end this fic with any questions still lurking in your minds, please hit me up. Also hit me up if you spot typos, grammatical errors, or sentences that don't read easy. And let me know if you cried, because apparently my evil little heart takes joy in making people suffer.
> 
> *Passes out tissues* I have loved and hated writing this fic, and I am happy and sad to see it end.

**Chapter 3**  
_I'm Not Ready_

 

_May 1, 2009_

This call was so drastically different, and Peggy couldn’t stop the overwhelming relief at Pepper’s words, the younger woman crying for an entirely different reason now than she had three months ago.

“They found him. Peggy, they found him. He’s alive.”

It almost felt like a heart attack, the surge of emotion Peggy felt, and she rocked back and forth as she clutched the phone to her ear, murmuring over and over, “Oh, thank God. Thank God.”

 

_July 2009_

Peggy tucked the phone against her shoulder with her cheek and poured herself a cup of tea in her kitchen. “I know you’re up to something, my darling. No use lying.”

Tony was doing that thing he did, using his words to deflect and distract, but Peggy wasn’t buying it, and she interrupted his attempt to change the subject.

“Stop worrying, dearest. I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Now Tony was mumbling about Peggy having a sixth sense, and she smiled a little as she sipped her cup of tea. He was up to something, he’d barely been to visit her in England twice since he’d gotten back from captivity (oh, didn’t that still make her burn with anger, to imagine anyone hurting her precious boy), but she knew there was a reason for it. Tony never did anything without a reason, and she could be patient. 

Well… sort of patient. When he’d come to see her the first time, stopped in England on his way home from being held in captivity in that awful place, making a military aircraft make an unscheduled stop so Tony Stark could see his godmother… she had held onto him on the doorstep and refused to let go for a long, long time. Long enough that Rhodey (Peggy liked him, she had ever since she’d met him at Tony’s MIT graduation, he was a good man), had actually slid past them and gone into her little kitchen and made tea for the three of them. The tea was over-steeped and going cold by the time Peggy was able to shakily draw back, but Tony was equally as wobbly, so it was alright. He held her hand the rest of the visit, letting her and Rhodey provide the conversation, and he had hugged her almost too tight when they left, burying his face in her white-gray hair and sighing deeply.

Now, thought, he was just being squirrelly, and Peggy knew better than to be anything other than watchful and suspicious. He’d been the same way as a boy, and surprisingly little had changed about him when he had a secret to keep. Distract, deflect, run his mouth, act outrageous. 

There was something brewing on the horizon, and she’d just have to wait and see what it was that her godson had planned for the future.

 

_November 26, 2009_

“So.” Peggy’s warm eyes were sparkling with humor and there was a sly little curve to her mouth that made Tony grin as he leaned against the doorjamb. She’d obviously heard his car pull up outside the cottage, and had just sat waiting for him to come in. “Iron Man, hm?”

Tony shrugged, not even bothering to wipe the smile off his face. He knew she’d have seen the interview from yesterday. She’d been suspicious ever since he’d gotten back from Afghanistan, knowing something was up, those sharp eyes of hers missing nothing every time he was able to tear himself away from working on the suit to visit her. “Yep.”

She watched him, still with that funny little tip to her lips, almost as if they were staring each other down to see who would break first. 

“I see.” She finally said after a long silence. “Well, don’t think you’ll get away with not visiting every month anymore. With that new suit, I expect weekly visits, and I will not take no for an answer.”

Tony laughed and leaned down to kiss her cheek, suddenly feeling outrageously fond of his godmother. “Sure thing, Aunt Peg."

"For some reason, when I contemplated the many glorious possibilities your future held when you were little, a superhero in a fancy metal suit never came to mind."

"What do you think of the suit? The red and gold too much?"

"Darling, I love it, I'll have them dye my hair to match at my next appointment."

Tony smirked, but he knew there was no hiding from her how pleased he was. "Maybe I’ll give you a ride with it someday.”

Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and he suddenly found himself worried. 

Great, now that the idea was in her head, she’d be on it like a dog on a bone and he would never drag it back. 

“I do think I’d like that, we should do that immediately.” Peggy grinned at him, her wrinkled face creasing further, laugh lines deep as she set her teacup aside and made to stand up.

“No, come on, I was teasing!” Tony protested, falling into the chair across from her and slouching down in his anticipated defeat. “You can’t hold me to that!”

“Anthony Edward Stark, I have precious little thrill left in my life at my age, and so help me, you cannot just dangle that carrot in front of my face and not expect me to go after it. I expect an adventure, young man, and don’t think I’ll forget it!”

Tony laughed then, long and hard, and it felt like a year’s worth of tension melted out of his shoulders. He laughed even harder later, when he gave in to the pleading and took Peggy on the shortest, safest, lowest ride ever, cradled to his armored chest and shrieking with delight the entire time.

 

_April 2010_

Ugh. Going through all this junk was going to kill him.

Tony steadfastly ignored the little voice in his head that whispered, _You’re dying anyway_ , and instead shifted another box over so he could see the one behind it, also ignoring the ache of the poison reactor in his chest. 

He had been elected, against his will, as the one to take care of Peggy’s belongings that she had kept in storage in Brooklyn, despite her move back to England when she had retired. And now that she’d been moved to the nursing home in Washington DC on a permanent basis because of the Alzheimer’s, it was time to start taking care of things. Her kids were taking care of the house in Winchester, and they had asked Tony to take care of the storage unit (his fault, really, he had _insisted_ on doing something other than pay for everything, he should have made stipulations about hauling boxes). 

He really didn’t have the time for it, the Expo was starting in two weeks, and digging through a musty storage unit in New York wasn’t exactly part of his plans, but they were just starting to survey likely properties for the new Stark building downtown and it would be good for him to stop by and check things out. And… it was Aunt Peggy. He’d do anything for her.

When Tony thought of his Aunt Peggy, sentiment wasn’t something that came to mind. She was a tiny bit of a romantic, sure, but mostly she was a mouthy package of badassery that took no shit and loved without limits. Tony kind of wanted to be her when he grew up (he might be thirty-nine, but no one was going to make the argument that he was indeed a grownup yet). So it had been a little surprising to open up the storage unit to find boxes upon boxes upon _boxes_ , crammed ceiling high with a narrow aisle in the middle, all meticulously labelled, and all full of absolutely worthless treasures.

What had to be _every single scrap_ of paper that ever came home from school with her kids. Every sad art project done by chubby child’s fingers. Faded award ribbons, report cards, and certificates for various achievements. Countless pages of old, yellowing paper that had been scribbled on with crayon, pencil, marker, watercolors. A few sweet love letters from Peggy’s husband. And photographs, _so many photographs_.

Tony had taken down one box, looked through it to gauge what he was dealing with, and immediately arranged for a truck to take it all to the airport. The five-by-eight storage unit probably had close to a hundred boxes in it, and there was no way he was staying in New York to go through it all. He’d take it home, and employ Jarvis’ help, otherwise he’d be wading through these carefully organized years of Peggy’s life for the rest of his.

He supervised the workers that came with the truck, making sure they loaded things precisely how they’d been stored in the shed, noting the assorted names and dates neatly written on all four sides of each box. They were halfway done when something caught his eye, a name that wasn’t one of Peggy’s kids or grandkids.

Tony stepped forward, taking a closer look at the boxes stacked by the wall in the storage unit.

They had his name on them.

Oh, she did _not_ …

\------------------------

Oh yes, she did. Six boxes, _six of them_ , just for Tony. Tony hadn’t even been one of Peggy’s kids (biologically, that is), but she still had six boxes, all full of sloppily sketched schematics drawn in crayon by a four year old hand and barely recognizable renderings of Captain America’s shield (that still stung, the echo of Howard’s voice shouting in disdain, _“I’ve known men that were so admirable in every way that the world still remembers them, decades after they’ve been gone. What are you ever going to amount to that the world will remember you for if you don’t ever worry about anything other than your stupid robots and toys?”_ Like Tony couldn’t parse out, even as young as seven, exactly who Howard was referring to). 

There were pictures of himself and Aunt Peggy at every age, as well as pictures of him with Ana and Jarvis, his mom, several of all five of them, even one with Howard in it. Tony quickly decided that his favorite was the one where Tony was surrounded by Ana, Jarvis, and Peggy, all obviously giving him pointers on how to throw a punch. That had been his first black eye, a bully in his year at school had retaliated when Tony had willfully let the kid make a fool of himself in the middle of class, trying to show “the boy genius” up. Peggy had been so infuriated she’d been shaking, but by the time Jarvis, Ana, and Maria had calmed her down, they were all in agreement about teaching Tony how to defend himself. Maria had gotten out the camera while the other three took turns teaching him some moves, having to be reminded occasionally that Tony wasn’t intending to take on an entire platoon of villains, just the mean kid on the metaphorical playground.

Also in the boxes were carefully preserved newspaper articles about Tony’s accomplishments as the son of one of the most brilliant minds of the 20th century. _Xeroxed copies_ of his graduation certificates and diplomas, really, Aunt Peggy? Every letter he ever wrote to her, even the ones from when he’d just started boarding school when he was six and he wrote her every other day even when he saw her almost every weekend. Little useless gadgets he’d built for her using all kinds of junk, a stuffed animal he won at a carnival game when he was nine that he’d been _bursting with pride_ to present to his Aunt Peggy. She’d kissed him on the cheek that day, leaving a red lipstick print that he hadn’t let her wipe off, making her laugh with a comment about how it would make everyone else jealous.

Tony hadn’t been able to wait until he got home to look through those boxes. Those he had personally carried onto the jet himself, sitting cross-legged on the floor during the entire flight home, carefully going through five of the six before they landed in Malibu. Manful tears came to his eyes more than once, at not only the demonstration of how much Peggy loved him, but the reminder of how much she had been in his life, how many times she had gone out of her way to be there for him even when she had her own life and family and career. She didn’t have to be there, but she always had been. Helping him whether he wanted it or not, dragging him through a few of those years by sheer force of will.

Wow, sometimes it hit him hard to realize how much he owed her. It shouldn’t still surprise him, but it still did. He owed her everything.

 

_May 6, 2010_

He finally had a chance to look through the last box several days later, on the eve of the Expo (okay, he didn’t really have time, but it had been sitting in his workshop for four days now and he couldn’t stand it any longer). He’d had a surprising (or may not so surprising) amount of pleasant emotions and memories when he’d looked through the other boxes on the jet on the way back to Malibu, and right at this particular moment, just having tested his blood toxicity level and noting that the numbers were climbing at an accelerated rate, he could really use some of that pleasantness again. It was like getting a hug from his Aunt Peggy, without her arms actually being around him.

It was the same sort of thing that had been in the other five boxes. Pictures, mementos, a few early schematics for Dummy that were scribbled on a fine linen napkin (he remembered that, he’d been writing Peggy a letter during a speech at one of Howard’s fancy benefit dinners, and Tony had been unable to explain with words what he was going to build for the robotics competition at MIT, so he’d surreptitiously sketched out what he was thinking on his dinner napkin and stuffed the fabric into his pocket so he could send it in the envelope for Peggy to see). 

Near the bottom of the box, though, he found something unusual. It was a manila envelope held closed with a metal clasp, time and the weight of the items on top of it pressing the paper down to show the impression of something small and rectangular inside it. On the envelope was written, in Peggy’s lovely script, _“To my dear Tony. Just in case.”_

Eyebrows furrowing, Tony bent the metal clasp and opened the flap, then tipped a small cassette tape from a camcorder into his hand. There was a faded label, and it simply had a date on it, _8/26/1989_.

Well, good thing he still kept all the old movie equipment around that Howard had almost obsessively collected…

It took him about an hour to find all the right stuff to view the tape (probably could have been half that time, but Dummy and U were the neediest bots in the world, especially since he’d barely been around lately doing everything else), and he collapsed into a chair with a sigh as the equipment got rolling.

He picked up a stack of pictures that had been in the bottom of the box next to the mysterious envelope, smiling as he looked through them, memories of some of the moments in the pictures warming his heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Wow, he’d forgotten about playing badminton with Jarvis, that man could bring some serious heat with a racquet.

“My darling Tony.”

His head snapped up when he heard Peggy’s voice, eyes flipping to the projector screen he had hooked up to tape player.

“If you’re watching this, I’m dead.” A funny little line cropped up between her eyebrows, still dark instead of silver as they were now, and there was the slightest tang of humor in her voice. “I must confess, it’s a little morbid, making this for you to watch after my death.” A flicker of a smile on her face. “But I’ve got a mission coming up that is… it could be quite dangerous. I’ll be gone for some time. And just in case everything goes wrong, I need you to know something. Something important.”

Another smile, a little bigger, a little more real, and Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. Damn it, he loved her so much.

“You are loved, dearest. So loved. And I know you don’t always feel that. But it’s true. Your parents, Jarvis and Ana, myself, darling we love you so very much. I can’t even explain it. And I just need you to know, just in case I’m not there anymore… that you are loved. Always, always loved, and you are not alone.”

Her lips curved again in a smile, then she pressed a kiss to her fingers sent it towards the camera with a gesture of her hand.

Tony didn’t say a word when Dummy came rolling towards him, a filthy, grease-stained rag clutched in his claw. He just took it and dabbed at his wet face, patting the robot while he swallowed hard.

 

_May 9, 2010_

“How’s she doing today?”

The nurse that had just come out of Peggy’s room smiled at Tony, familiar with him as he’d toured the facility personally when he and Peggy’s kids been deciding what would be best for her once in-home hospice care wasn’t enough anymore. Her diagnosis of Alzheimer’s hadn’t really been a surprise, but it still sucked like a damn Hoover. “It’s a good day today, Mr. Stark. She’s doing well.”

Nodding his thanks at the nurse with a smile, Tony knocked on the door and cracked it open, sticking his head in.

“You seen a cute, silver-haired fox around here anywhere? Brown eyes, British, likes to put people in their place?”

Peggy’s wrinkled faced creased even more with a grin as she looked over from where she was sitting up in bed, beaming at her godson. “What on earth are you doing here, you darling boy?”

Tony grinned as he came in and shut the door, going right to her for a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Had to check out your new digs, make sure you weren’t beating up the doctors.”

Peggy’s eyes were shining as she looked at him. “Well, there is one that looks all of twelve years old who was getting pretty cheeky yesterday, but I handled it.”

“I just bet you did.” Tony dragged an armchair over next to the bed and sat down, leaning forward with his elbow on his knees to hold her hand in both of his. “How you doing, Aunt Peggy?”

“Just fine, really. There’s only so much you can do with a body when you’re as old as I am,” Tony scoffed to make her smile, “but they’re taking very good care of me. You’re so sweet to visit right now, I know you’re busy.”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Don’t try lying to me now, dearest, it’s insulting. It didn’t work when you were a boy, and it’s not working now either. I saw the senate hearing, I would dearly love to shoot that repulsive senator right between his eyes.”

Tony chuckled and pressed a kiss to her hand before sitting back to retrieve something from his inside jacket pocket. “Guess what I found when I was going through your storage stuff the other day.”

“Oh, no, you got stuck with the storage unit?” She looked apologetic, but also a little like she was trying not to laugh.

“I did, and honestly, Aunt Peg, what were you thinking? You have at least fifty-seven of the same crayon drawing, over and over and over, and you kept all of them?”

Peggy just smiled and shrugged her thin shoulders helplessly. “There’s something about a toddler’s pride when they shove a sticky, messy drawing into your hand that makes it seem like the most precious work of art. What do you have there?” She nodded at what was in his hands.

Tony leaned forward again and rested his elbows on the edge of the bed, handing her a small stack of photographs. “Check these out.”

Peggy held them carefully in her aged hands, and she made a soft, fond noise when she saw the first one. “Ohhh, just look at you, dearest. Goodness, you were the most precious child. Your eyes would light up like fireflies every time you smiled, it was the most beautiful thing.” She tucked that one to the back of the stack, and gently touched the next photo. “Ah, my dear Mr. Jarvis. I forget how young we were, look at that. Good Lord, I miss him. And Ana too.”

Tony nodded, looking between her and the photo of her younger self and Edwin Jarvis, watching the bittersweet emotions play across his godmother’s face. “I do too. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I’d give anything for some of his hot chocolate. You remember that?”

“Very well indeed, he never did tell me his secret ingredient. Oh, look at this, you took apart the toaster to make that silly thing, and I’ve never seen you look so naughty in your life!”

Tony stayed all afternoon with his Aunt Peggy, leaving the room occasionally to give her privacy when the nurses came in for one thing or another, but staying right at her side for the rest of the time. She faded in and out, the Alzheimer’s that had made this move to the retirement home necessary playing with her mind. But she came back after awhile every time, and Tony was able to say goodnight and kiss her cheek during a lucid moment, leaving her with a teasing comment and wink.

“I love you, Aunt Peggy. You’re my favorite girl.”

She smiled and patted his cheek, her thumb gently rasping over his meticulously styled beard. “I love you too, my darling.”

 

_May 30, 2010_

Tony sorted through the metal cans full of rolls of film that had been in the box Fury left with him, leaving that cranky agent behind to babysit as well when he'd taken off with a dramatic wave of his black trenchcoat. “Can’t give me crap about not cleaning up that video equipment now, can you Jarvis?”

“Yes, you sure showed me, sir.”

Tony smiled faintly at the dry tone in his AI’s voice. “We still grounded like schoolkids? No calls?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Are you actually working on that little problem, or just humoring me by letting me think you are?”

“Working very hard, sir.”

Tony disconnected a few machines that he’d set up to watch Aunt Peggy’s video a few weeks ago, and went to get the old-fashioned film projector. “I should be proud that I’ve taught you to lie, but for some reason I’m just feeling annoyed…”

\----------------------------

_“What is, and will always be, my greatest creation… is you.”_

The words kept echoing in Tony’s head, over and over, as he sat immobile in the chair across from the projector screen, empty glass in his hand while the projector clicked repeatedly, out of film.

Had his dad meant it? Tony had no reason to believe it. But… he wanted to. Man, he wanted to.

Probably even more than he wanted to stop dying.

 

_May 5, 2012_

They’d actually gone to get shawarma, Tony hadn’t seen that coming. Alien corpses littering the streets, rubble still falling from unstable buildings, and he’d sat in a little shawarma joint between the literal God of Thunder (that man was big enough to make anyone feel tiny) and super-green super-genius Bruce Banner (Tony was still fanboying a little, he wouldn’t deny it), trying to avoid thinking about everything that had just happened.

Which was also why he was in his half-destroyed lab, in the middle of the night, having just dug a few boxes out of one of the storage areas in the lower part of the Tower where he kept his parents’, Jarvis and Ana’s, and Aunt Peggy’s things. He'd had to slip out of bed without disturbing Pepper, which was tricky because she'd latched onto him like an octopus the moment she'd disembarked the jet, and hadn't let go until she'd fallen asleep. Apparently fighting giant aliens and falling through holes in space wasn't something you did to your girlfriend if you wanted to have bodily autonomy

“Alright, Dad, Aunt Peggy,” Tony said, taking the lid off the box. “You show me your Rogers and I’ll show you mine.” He sniggered in spite of himself, making the off-color innuendo entirely on accident. He was still floating on a bizarre euphoria that was sandwiched between utter exhaustion and complete panic, a starry blackness filled with alien creatures hell-bent on destroying Earth kept popping up in his mental screen, making his heart stop every time. He kept flitting in that area of giddy numbness, knowing that sooner or later he’d be sucked into the exhaustion or the panic, and actively avoiding both of them.

Tony had gone through his parents’ things several times since their deaths, but at nineteen he’d banished everything Captain America-related into their own boxes away from everything else, out of jealousy and pettiness. In the intervening years, he had apparently become no less jealous or petty, and Aunt Peggy’s box of Steve stuff from her storage unit had joined his dad’s stuff a couple years ago, set apart from everything else.

But the boxes were in Tony's lab now, and while Dummy and U rolled around being extremely unhelpful in the post-battle cleanup efforts, Tony sorted through the boxes, not sure what he was looking for, but needing to look anyway.

It was near dawn when he listened to the audio recording he’d found in Howard’s boxes, nothing on it except the date _3/4/1945_.

The date Captain America flew a HYDRA plane into the ice and never came out.

Well, not for sixty-six years, anyway.

Tony listened, and he was… really not prepared for what he heard as the audio started rolling.

_“Command, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?”_

_“Captain Rogers, what is your—”_

_“Steve, is that you, are you alright?”_

_“Peggy!”_

Tony started in his chair when he recognized his godmother’s voice, eyes wide. He kept listening, Peggy asking for Rogers’ coordinates, that she’d get Howard to help, Rogers saying he was going to put the plane in the water.

_“Please, don’t do this, w-we have time, we can work it out.”_ She sounded so young… so young and so desperate, trying so hard to be optimistic.

Rogers, making the sacrifice play, saying Peggy’s name with an ache in his voice. _“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.”_

Peggy, obviously in tears and trying so hard to be strong. Making an impossible date as the man she loved went diving towards the frozen ocean.

_“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”_

_“I’ll show you how. Just be there.”_

Faintly, Tony could hear what he realized was the whine of an engine as it worked harder, pushing through the air at incredible speeds, and stopped breathing as he realized he was literally listening to that plane dive under Roger’s hands. 

_“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your—”_

And static.

Peggy’s voice, worried and almost sharp. _“Steve?”_

More urgently, more desperate. _“Steve?”_

A pause, then again, high and tight and broken with a sob on the end… _“Steve?”_

Tony’s hands were clenched in fists on his knees, and his eyes were closed as the audio cut off.

“Sir… shall I replay?” Jarvis’ voice was gentle a moment later, but even so, Tony shook his head almost violently.

“No. No, that’s not something I ever need to hear again.”

He got in the Mark V, not one he used anymore, even though it was in perfect working order. And he flew straight to DC. He didn’t have long, only about an hour before he’d need to be getting ready to go to the grand Asgardian send-off, but he couldn’t stand not going to see his Aunt Peggy, right now, and giving her a hug.

And if he happened to climb right onto the bed with her, curled up on his side on top of the covers with his head on her shoulder and her hand in his, no one would be the wiser.

He couldn’t reach back through the years and be there for the young, heartbroken Peggy Carter in the recording. But he could be with her now, holding her frail hand in his, listening to her even, shallow breaths, feeling the tickle of her silver-white hair on his cheek.

On the way home, he had Jarvis print out everything the AI could find on every one of the Howling Commandos, Colonel Phillips, Howard Stark, and Peggy Carter. Nothing classified, of course, nothing that the public wouldn’t have access to. But this way, Rogers wouldn’t have to try and find the information himself. SHIELD had probably given Rogers some information, but Tony had seen SHIELD dossiers before, and they really didn’t tell much of a story.

This way, at least Tony could feel like he’d done something. He’d had a brief but revealing look at who the man behind Captain America was in the last twenty-four hours, and he really just wanted to do something to… help.

 

_May 6, 2012_

Steve approached Stark once the sky cleared, Thor and a cuffed, gagged Loki disappearing into whatever netherworld it was that they inhabited. Stark, standing over by the deep maroon sports car he’d driven up in, saw him coming and nodded. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored light gray suit, and Steve struggled not to feel shabby in his slacks, button down shirt, and leather jacket, even though the clothes were basically brand new.

“Nice to be rid of one more bad guy.” Stark quipped, holding his hand out.

Steve shook it and smiled. “I agree. Nice to see hard work pay off.”

“If all we’re calling that is hard work, I’m going to have to seriously restructure my life. And demand a raise.”

“Don’t want to add a brush with death to your daily calendar?”

A muscle tightened in Stark’s jaw, but Steve had glanced away to where Agent Romanov was handing a duffel over to Dr. Banner.

“Oh, I have something for you.”

Steve looked back at the man in curiosity, and Stark pulled a large yellow paper pouch out of his car, the kind that had a bit of string holding the flap closed. It was the size of a phone book, the contents a couple inches thick, and had nothing on it except Steve’s name handwritten near the top.

“What is it?” He took the offered package.

“I looked up a few people for you. That you might be interested in.”

Steve’s fingers had been unwinding the string, then paused. “People?”

Stark gave a nod, something in his eyes that made Steve feel uncomfortable. It might have been pity. “From before the ice.”

This time a muscle in Steve’s jaw twitched, but if Stark noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Steve already had dossiers on the people he’d wondered about. Director Fury had provided them within days of him waking up in that room that had been equal parts familiar and wrong. He didn’t know what to expect from Stark, who the man thought he’d be interested in, what information he could possibly have that Fury didn’t.

Steve stuck his hand out again, and forced a smile to his face as he tucked the pouch against his side. “Thanks.”

Stark smiled as well, and shook. “Don’t be a stranger. Gonna take a while to get the Tower back up and running, but… you’re welcome anytime.”

With a nod of thanks and a smile that was much more real, Steve stepped back and headed towards his motorcycle. He shook Dr. Banner’s hand on his way, as the doctor headed towards Stark’s car. Steve stowed the pouch in his bag and looped it over his shoulder, straddling his bike and putting it neutral to kickstart it.

He wove through the streets of New York, noting, as he always did now, the changes that had occurred over the decades. It was a habit he had developed, in the weeks and months since waking up, taking ever-expanding routes on his motorcycle (something he’d gotten himself using the back-pay the government had given him to compensate, in some way, for what had happened) to relearn the city.

Later, back in his apartment, Steve wasn’t sure what to think as he read through the personal histories that Stark had provided, neatly sorted and stapled together, every one of the Howlies, Colonel Phillips, Tony’s father… and Peggy.

Was the guy rubbing his face in it? Showing off everything that Steve had missed, how not only the world, but some of his closest friends had gone on without him?

But then Steve found the note, just a single pale yellow sticky note on the back of Peggy’s sheaf of papers, with an address and a scribbled message.

_She's in a retirement home at this address. Alzheimer's, but she’d love to see you._

 

_December 12, 2012_

“Tony,”

Tony sat up quickly, looking at Peggy. She’d been dozing, and hadn’t recognized him when he came in earlier, not even enough to call him Howard. But she was obviously back in her right mind right now, and he didn’t intend to waste a second of it.

“Hey, Aunt Peggy.” He held her hand and kissed it, smiling at her.

“Is that calendar correct?”

He looked over at the calendar on the wall, the kind that you ripped off a page every day. It had large, dark numbers and words, so Peggy could see it easily from her bed. “Yeah, it is. December 12, 2012.”

“Be careful next week, alright?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her. “What?”

“It’s your blackout week. I remember. Just be careful.”

Tony opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but then he remembered too.

December 16th. _Right._

“I will. Promise.”

“No drinking.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, my darling.”

He kissed her cheek. Then again for good measure. “I love you too, Aunt Peggy.”

 

_2013_

“I’m just saying… if you ever want to. She’s not lucid much anymore, but she remembers you, Steve. She would know you.”

“I appreciate it, Tony. I do. I’m just… I don’t know if I can face that.”

“I won’t pretend to know what that’s like, but I can imagine maybe a tiny slice of it. Not pressuring you, here, I just want you to know. You say the word, and I’ll take you. She would… she would love to see you.”

 

_January 9, 2014_

“Howard! It’s so nice to see you!” Peggy’s voice was warm, and Tony fought like hell to keep the smile on his face. Damn, but it still cut like a knife every time she called him that. She was slipping away so fast…

He forced his voice to come out bright. “Hey, Peg. I brought someone to see you. I think you might remember him.”

Peggy’s eyes, slightly unfocused, were still on Tony’s face as he went to her side and took her hand, leaning down to kiss her cheek while she beamed. Then, when another figure appeared at the door, her gaze flickered over… and widened with shock.

“Oh, my Lord…” She whispered shakily, something in her eyes clearing, “Steve?”

\--------------------------

Tony was outside the door when Peggy coughed, her body taking her mind away from Steve, and her lucid period ended. He grimaced when he heard Steve’s voice go all soft and sad as Peggy started to cry, “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl. Not when she owes me a dance.”

A year and a half it had taken him to coax Steve here, and now Tony wasn’t at all sure that it had been the right thing to do. It hurt like hell every time Peggy called him Howard, he should have considered what might happen when she saw Steve. Or when she slipped back and was lost in the past.

He hated that there was nothing he could do…

 

_2015_

It didn’t become a _thing_ , but it happened often enough that they had a routine now. Tony would check with Steve and see if he wanted to come along when Tony went to visit Peggy, and occasionally Steve agreed. They would enter her room together, chat for a minute, then Tony would find a reason to leave and give them some time alone. Then, after a while, Steve would come out and they would switch places, giving Tony some time with his Aunt Peggy. Then Tony would call Steve back in, and they’d all talk together. Sometimes Peggy was lucid, remembering humorous things with the both of them, and other times she wasn’t all there, telling the same stories over and over, not recognizing either of them.

Today hadn’t been great so far. She had called Tony Howard again, and didn’t seem to recognize Steve at all at first, and had fallen asleep before Tony could fabricate a call or something to give Steve some time with her. So they sat with her while she slept, Steve on the couch idly watching whatever was on TV and Tony sitting by the side of the bed, mapping out some coding updates for the suit on his phone.

“If it isn’t my two favorite boys.”

Tony looked over sharply at Peggy’s voice, and was relieved when he realized that she was having a moment of lucidity now that she was awake. Steve looked a little like a deer in the headlights, and he shot Tony a furtive questioning glance.

“Me and Steve?” Tony asked, keeping his tone light, flirtatious.

Peggy nodded, a little smile on her face like she knew what he was doing, and she clarified for him. “My Tony and my Steve.”

“But you like me best, right?”

Steve couldn’t help the slight chuckle, and he looked at Tony with just a little bit of disbelief on his face. Tony didn’t look at him, but he did wink at his Aunt Peggy, grinning when she winked back and smiled at him.

 

_May 2016_

“Hello?” A cold fist of dread squeezed Tony’s heart as he answered the phone. He had all the numbers of the retirement home, including the staff, programmed into his phone. And they never called unless it was bad news.

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” It was Peggy’s favorite nurse, Tony recognized her voice.

“What happened?”

The woman sighed, and she sounded like she wished she could change the reason for the call. “She’s taking a turn for the worse. The doctors don’t think she’ll be able to pull herself through this one, the tough old bird.” Her voice, trying to be light, caught and she fell silent.

That fist around his heart tightened, and Tony had to work to let go of the shaky breath he held in his lungs. “How long do they think she has?”

“A few days. Maybe less.”

Everything else, the fresh, raw wound that was his break with Pepper, the incredible weight of residual guilt about Sokovia a year ago, the Accords… all of it faded into background noise.

_Aunt Peggy, no… I’m not ready._

 

_June 2016_

“I never thought she’d last this long,” The nurse commented, taking Peggy’s vitals and shaking her head as the heartbeat inside the frail woman persisted, despite all odds.

Tony smiled, and it was fond, but there was a bitter edge to it. Sitting here, in this room, every day for going on a month now, watching his Aunt Peggy slowly but surely slip away, it had been torture. “She’s a stubborn old broad.” He watched, just in case Peggy somehow heard his cheeky comment, wanting to catch it if her eyes flickered open and she shot him a glare, but she didn’t.

The few days the doctors had predicted in the middle of May had turned into four weeks, and Tony had been there every single day, only going back to his hotel room for a few hours at night to sleep and shower and do it all over again. Peggy's kids and the grandkids that were local kept coming in and taking turns, but Tony hadn't been able to make himself leave. The urgency of getting back to New York was increasing every day, the matter of the Accords a heavy weight on his shoulders, and Ross had been calling him on a daily basis, badgering him to set up a meeting with the Avengers.

But Tony wasn’t doing one damn thing until he had seen this through. He was not going to leave his Aunt Peggy’s side until it was over. He wasn’t going to let her die alone.

“I think it’s going to be soon, though,” The nurse said softly, resting her hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “She’s such a fighter, but I think it’ll be soon.”

Tony agreed. The times that she was awake were growing fewer, and the precious lucid moments even more so. It had been a week now since she had recognized Tony or said his name, and a full day since she had been awake at all. It was dragging out, slowly but surely, and Tony didn’t know if he just wanted her drawn out suffering to end, or if he just wanted to sit in this room, forever, holding her hand.

_Aunt Peggy, I’m not ready…_

 

_June 18, 2016_

“It’s finally happening.” Tony’s voice broke, and his grip on the phone tightened as he spoke to both of Peggy’s kids on the three-way call. “You need to get here fast. It’s happening now.”

 

_June 19, 2016_

The doctor took her stethoscope away from Peggy’s frail chest, and met the family’s eyes somberly. “She’s gone.”

Tony knew. He’d known the moment her eyes had suddenly flipped open, and a small smile curved her lips. Someone had come for her, someone from beyond the grave, and the next moment she was gone, eyes closing, chest falling still.

Quiet sobs filled the room, and Tony meant to move back, to let go of his godmother’s hand and let the blood family move in closer. But no one tried to budge him out of his spot, and Peggy’s daughter even leaned down and hugged him with one arm, her quiet weeping soft in his ear as tears ran down his face.

Finally, though, Tony loosened his fingers and gently, so carefully, placed Peggy’s hand on her stomach, squeezing one last time, then stood up and stepped back.

“Make sure Steve knows,” Tony said quietly to the nurse, wiping his eyes with a shaking hand as he nodded towards Peggy’s kids and grandkids. “Once they’re okay with people knowing. I know he talks to you.”

The nurse nodded and reached out, gently putting her hand on Tony’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Of course. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Stark? Anything at all?”

He smiled a little, but it was hollow and didn’t even come close to reaching his swollen eyes. He glanced back at Peggy’s still form, the peaceful expression on her face, and shook his head.

“Only one thing I want right now, and it’s just not something anyone can give me.”

 

_June 20, 2016_

Tony didn’t know how he made it through the meeting with Ross and the Avengers. He… had no idea how he held it together. He made jokes, sarcastic quips, bantered. He ran his mouth like he was so good at doing, and the entire time, half of his brain was in a fog of utter misery

Then Steve got the text. And Tony knew instantly who it was from when Steve abruptly left the room.

And all Tony wanted in that moment was to run away from everyone, everything, and never come back again.

_Aunt Peggy, I wasn’t ready…_

 

_June 22, 2016_

They kept the private funeral, the one just for family and close friends, small. In a beautiful little church in New York, where Peggy had lived most of her adult life with her husband and children. This was the funeral that Peggy’s two kids planned and paid for with the money Peggy had put aside for it.

The clergyman that was conducting the service got up, and Tony swallowed hard. His turn.

“And now, Peggy’s godson, Tony, would like to say a few words.”

Tony had to force a breath into his lungs as he stood up, and he could feel the way his chest hurt when he did so. Although that wasn’t so much from residual reactor pain anymore. Right now, that was the pure agony of grief.

He stood at the humble pulpit, glancing down for a moment before he lifted his eyes and looked around at the family members and close friends gathered together in the small church, the back few pews empty. Later, in the cathedral in London during the public funeral, there wouldn’t be a single spot to be had. Tony felt that Peggy would have liked this better, this small gathering of the people she loved most, clustered together and holding on to each other, passing tissues along the pews and looking up at Tony with wet eyes.

“Aunt Peggy,” He said, glad that his voice didn’t shake. “What can I even say about my brilliant Aunt Peggy. She was the biggest badass I ever knew, and I refuse to believe she’s gone. I don’t want to live in a world without her.”

The gentle, hurtful sound of sobs echoed slightly in the room, and Tony had to swallow hard a few times in order to continue. “Most of you know that I lost my parents quite a few years ago. It was a difficult time for me, everything after that, then losing the Jarvises as well, and I was definitely a difficult person. Probably a horrible person, really. But there is one person who ran into that storm, that wind tunnel of losing them, and became my rock. And that’s Aunt Peggy. My whole life, she was there. No matter what.” His voice finally broke, “And I’d give anything to have her back.”

\--------------------------

Tony didn’t attend the big funeral in London. Most of the people that went to the little private funeral in New York didn’t go to the big one. Tony still paid for it, though. Peggy had always been smart with money, and had not only put aside a fund for her own end of life care and funeral services, but also had a respectable inheritance for her kids. But Tony wanted to make sure the world had a chance to say a proper goodbye to the woman that had literally shaped the century. So, her kids agreed, and he paid, and he made it big enough for the world to see. He just couldn’t bear to be there personally.

He also knew Steve would be there, would be a pallbearer. Tony had been the one to suggest it. And with all the tension between the two of them, the Accords hanging over their heads, Tony didn’t want to bring that to the funeral. It would be hard enough as it was. Same with Pepper. Tony had made sure she knew, had Happy call her when it happened. She’d be at the big funeral. She and Peggy had always liked each other.

Once the private funeral in New York was over, Tony got on his jet to go to London, with Peggy’s casket carefully secured aboard as well. Her kids and grandkids were coming separately, politely declining Tony’s offer to let them use another of his jets, but they had accepted his offer to transport Peggy, knowing what it meant to him to help in any way he could, to take care of Peggy in any way he could, to repay her in any small form.

He cried the whole flight.

And then he cried some more in his hotel room while the funeral went on.

And then again in the car while he waited for everyone at the grave site to disperse. It had been twenty-five years, but it felt like his parents’ deaths had happened yesterday. And Ana and Jarvis. And now Peggy. The pile of losses was so big, and it ripped up Tony’s insides like shards of broken glass. Would it always hurt this much?

Steve took forever to leave the grave site, but Tony waited, parked in a nice but not noticeably fancy black car quite a distance away. Tony had almost gone home earlier in the day after making sure Peggy got to the cathedral safely, but he hadn’t been able to manage it. He had to make sure she was laid to rest properly, and he had to put flowers on her grave when she was. White roses. Forty-six of them. One for every year that she had been his Aunt Peggy, and loved him even when it felt like no one else did.

He placed the bouquet by the dark marble headstone, his eyes strangely dry now. Crouching in front of the stone, he let his fingertips skim her name carved there, and smiled just a little bit.

“Gonna miss you, Aunt Peggy. Never gonna find someone that can glare at me like you did. Pepper comes close, but—” Tony’s voice broke, and hey, more tears. He and Pepper had agreed to take a break a couple months ago, just before his speech at MIT, their future terribly uncertain. Maybe that was part of why this was so damned hard. He’d picked up the phone at least seven or eight times since then, aching to hear Pepper’s voice telling him it would be okay. But he’d promised, he’d promised that he’d give her space, give both of them space to figure out what they wanted. So he was sticking to it.

“I’ll keep an eye on Steve for you. He’s pretty mad at me right now, but… I’ll try to keep him out of trouble. I’ll do my best.”

The sky had been going gray and overcast over the last half hour, and now thunder started rolling overhead, and the air got heavy and cold. It would start raining any second.

Knowing that it was his cue to leave, Tony leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the headstone, and placing his hand flat over the carved name, _Margaret “Peggy” Carter_.

“I love you _so much_. Bye, Aunt Peggy.”

 

_September 8, 2016_

_“Oh, I helped this old lady and she bought me a churro. So… that was nice.”_

Tony snorted out a laugh as he listened to the message Peter Parker had left on Happy’s voicemail just a little while ago, then had to go back and listen again. Yeah, still funny the second time around.

He flicked his fingers and spun the holo-form of the new Spiderman suit, checking out the new color scheme. He liked the black and gold, it was classy.

“Friday, how long until we land?”

“Approximately an hour and thirty minutes until we land in India, boss.”

“Good. Keep tabs on the Spiderling, yeah?”

“Babysitter Mode active, yes boss.”

“Good deal.” Tony shook his head as he chuckled about the churro thing again. Peter was a good kid. Someday, when he was trained up a bit, he’d make a great superhero. He had a power and passion in him that would help him do a whole lot of good in the world.

When Tony had been fifteen, he’d been a freaking nightmare. Plowing through college classes with arrogance and swagger, making more enemies than friends due to him just being his idiot self. Writing his mom and the Jarvises and especially Peggy letter after letter, complaining about the everyday nonsense that inconvenienced him like it was important news.

A smile curved his mouth when he thought of his Aunt Peggy, and it hurt, but it wasn’t bad. Bittersweet, perhaps. He still missed her in ways that he couldn’t begin to explain, but… it was a hurt that was healing. He’d had her for all his life, and now he was going to keep learning how to move forward without her. Maybe he’d even try his hand at finally _being_ her now, maybe try growing up a little bit now that he was forty-six and would soon be staring fifty in the face. That would make Pepper happy, she’d be all for that. The world could always use a person trying to be more like Peggy Carter.

With a little sigh, Tony leaned back in his seat and listened to the muffled roar of the jet engines outside the window, just reminiscing for a moment. Then, just because he could, he called up the churro message again. Because he was pretty sure that wasn’t ever _not_ going to be funny.


End file.
